Across The Mountains
by Scribbles-Dementia
Summary: TristanOFC -Premovie- Once again called on to fulfill their 'duty' to Rome, Artorius and his band of Sarmatian Knights are sent to rescue the daughter of a Roman officer. 'Do not talk to me of freedom when you know not what it is to be a slave...'
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from the King Arthur movie. The characters of Aurelia, Furia, Lucius, Valeria, Quintus, Gaius Servilius and Flavia Parvus are, however, my own. Basically, anything you recognise from the movie is not mine. Everything else is. **

**Across The Mountains**

**Prologue**

It was a cloudy night. Perfect for a secret getaway. Slipping quietly out of bed so as not to wake Furia who was sleeping on a pelt just beside me, I donned my riding habit, boots and a heavy black cloak. Carefully stepping over my still slumbering handmaid, I crept out of my room, working my way down to the kitchen stores where I had earlier hid away a bundle of food and a skin of water. I had thought this through very carefully, weighing all my possibilities, and gathering all the necessities I may have needed. I was not coming back.

Part of me wished I could've said goodbye to Lucius. He was the only one, besides maybe Furia, that I would miss the most. He'd always looked out for me and he was the only one who had even considered my needs in this whole mess. He'd always been the perfect big brother. But as protective as he was of me, he would have definitely never agreed to this.

The stables were eerily quite. It was pitch black and I could just barely make out the soft snorts of the horses. They too had retired for the night. Taking cautious steps and walking with one hand out in front of me, I slowly and surely made my way towards where Dice was stalled. She neighed softly, signalling her awareness of my presence. Maybe she had sensed the tension radiating off me. Maybe part of her knew that something was going to happen tonight. Soon her saddle was strapped on and her bit slipped into her mouth. She pawed at the straw beneath her feet, eager to be on the way. I did a last minute check; the supplies where tied securely to Dice's saddle, my life savings – a small pouch of silver – hung from my waist and a small knife, a gift from Lucius, was hidden in my right boot. I was ready.

---

"_No." _

_I winced as Furia pulled my hair a little harder than was necessary. She had been in the process of weaving a ribbon into my hair when mother came in with the news. _

"_Aurelia! You _will_ do as your father and I bid you to. You will go back to Rome and – " _

_I spun around in my chair then; facing her with anger clearly evident on my face. _

"_And what, mother? Become that man's whore! I will do no such thing." _

"_Aurelia!" my mother exclaimed in lady-like horror. _

"_Do not act so aghast, mother. That is what you and father are sending me to become, is it not? Gaius Servilius already has a wife. There can be only one other reason for sending me to that man and I highly doubt marriage is it." _

_My mother sighed as she crossed the room to stand before me. She reached for my hands but I jerked them away. She sighed again as if she were a tortured saint. _

"_My dear, Senator Servilius is a very powerful, and well respected, man in Rome – " _

"_The Senate holds little power now, mother." _

_She frowned at my interruption. She was too much of a lady to have shushed me. _

"_The Senate may not be as powerful as it once was," she continued, "but Gaius Servilius still has his connections. There is much to gain from this arrangement." _

_I opened my mouth to interrupt again but she silenced me with a stern look. _

"_The Senator's wife, Flavia Parvus – poor woman – has not been able to provide him with an heir in all their thirteen years of marriage – " _

"_Has he ever considered the fact that he may be impotent," I whispered but mother heard it anyway. She chose to be the better person and not say anything though she did glare at me for a while. _

"_Consider yourself fortunate, Aurelia. Senator Servilius could have chosen from any number of _willing_ Roman girls – _younger_ Roman girls – to be his mistress. Instead he chose you. Your father and I will bode no more argument from you. The Senator and his men will be arriving in Britain tomorrow morning and when he leaves; it will not be without you." _

_Mother left then, refusing to hear any more of my 'excuses'. I turned back around in my chair so Furia could continue with my hair. _

"_What should I do, Furia?" _

"_Listen to your mother," she replied crisply and without hesitation. _

_I glared at her reflection in the mirror. _

"_It would make no difference to argue or defy them, my lady. In the end, they will have their way. And besides, this Senator cannot be that bad of a man; he has stayed with his wife for thirteen years despite the fact that she has borne him no child. That definitely must be a sign of his good character." _

_I sighed. _

"_Even so, Furia, I refuse to become someone's mistress. Do I have no say in what is to become of my life?" _

"_No." _

_I glared at her again. She received it with a smile though, indicating that her reply had only been in jest. _

"_I want love, Furia. I want romance. I want a knight to sweep me off my feet." _

_She sighed then and I was reminded once again of how much older she acted than her actual age, which was really not much more than my eighteen years. Eighteen – back in Rome I would have been considered an old maid. Maybe mother was right. Maybe I was fortunate to have someone actually choose me. I sighed. _

"_I want it to be my choice, Furia. But most of all…I want freedom." _

_Furia finished my hair then and knelt down beside me. She reached out and took my hands in hers. _

"_Isn't it ironic," she said as she stroked my hands comfortingly. " Here we are, two girls born into different circumstances, yet we are much more alike than anyone could ever imagine." She looked up into my eyes then. "You'll find your knight, my lady. That I am sure of." _

---

_I had not meant to eavesdrop. Honestly I hadn't. But the raised voices coming from my father's personal chambers made me curious. What's more was the fact that I recognised Lucius' voice as well. He was never one to argue with either of our parents. _

"_You cannot do this, father!" _

"_Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do, boy!" _

"_Father! Listen to yourself! Did you not take into consideration Aurelia's feelings when you agreed to this? Surely you must have known how she would have reacted to this arrangement." _

"_What Aurelia thinks about this matter is of no concern. Whether she wants to or not, she will return to Rome with Senator Servilius. She will become his mistress!" _

"_Why!" _

"_My reasons are none of your concern, boy! It would be wise to leave now and never speak to me of this again." _

"_No, I will not leave until you have explained to me what possessed you to condemn my sister to a life of absolute misery!" _

"_I am doing no such thing! Are you accusing me of being an uncaring father, boy?" _

"_Right now, I am!" _

_I heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh and realised that my father had just struck Lucius. I tried to muffle the gasp that escaped me. Never in all my life had I known either of my parents to strike us. There was something more going on than meets the eye. _

"_Never…never ever say that again," said my father, his voice dangerously low. _

_There was a long silence before my father finally told Lucius to leave. I heard feet shuffling and realised that my brother was finally listening to my father and making his way towards the door. I didn't even want to imagine what sort of trouble, not to mention the awkwardness, I would get into if discovered just outside the door, so I hurried to a little alcove down the hall, pressing myself flat against the wall and hoping Lucius would not notice me. Fortunately, he had his head down the entire time, staring at his feet, and walked right by me obliviously. I peeked out of my hiding place then to see if it was safe to come out and, as I did, caught sight of my mother entering the room Lucius had just left. Once again, my curiosity got the better of me. As I pressed my ear against the door I realised that I was once again the topic of conversation in the room. _

"_Maybe we should have told Lucius the reason, Quintus." _

"_And have him murder a Roman Senator right under our roof? I think not, my love." _

"_So you are just trying to protect him?" _

"_I am already losing one child, Valeria. I will not lose another." _

_I heard my mother sigh. No doubt she was now massaging my father's shoulders. It was something she did whenever he was stressed. _

"_I know you hate this, Quintus. But we can't think of it as losing Aurelia. Servilius gave us his word that she will be well taken care of. Besides, we could always go back to Rome for visits." _

"_With Rome retiring from Britain and with the way things are with the Woads right now, I highly doubt I will be returning to Rome for a visit anytime soon." _

_There was a long period of silence, from which I could tell both my parents were very distressed, If they disliked it so much why were they still insisting on sending my away? _

"_I should have never agreed to this," my father finally said. _

"_You didn't know," was my mother's reply. _

"_No, but I knew it would've been something bad." _

_I heard my mother sigh again. _

"_You only had our best interests at heart, my love. This is not your fault." _

_Silence, It was long time before my father spoke again and I had almost given up on learning anything I didn't already know. _

"_I wish I could just turn back time. If I hadn't been so drunk. If I hadn't…Maybe I should've just – " _

"_Then you would have been dead. Servilius offered a way out. You would have been insane not to have taken it." _

_It hit me then. The reason for everything. My father had done something bad, something _stupid_. Servilius had offered to fix the problem – for a price. My father had desperately agreed without knowing the conditions and now I was paying for it all. _

_Anger burned in me then. Raw, fiery, righteous anger. Why should I have to pay for someone else's mistake? Why was my life to be forfeited for something I did not do? Why was everything so unfair? _

_I think it was at that very instant that I made up my mind. I would not leave with the Senator. I would not even be in the domus when he came. _

_I was going to run away. _

---

My hair whipped me in the face once again and part of me regretted not bothering to tie it up earlier. It hadn't seemed that important then.

I had only the vaguest idea of where I was going. Right then, my plan consisted of heading south to the Wall, then making my way to nearest coastal port town. Beyond that, I had nothing. I more or less knew which way was South, if I was reading the stars correctly, so I was confident that I would make it to the Wall without much difficulty.

Upon hindsight, it just went to show how naïve I was, even at eighteen. I had been brought up pampered and very much sheltered from the goings on of the rest of Roman Britain, not to mention Woad Britain.

The only warning I had was Dice's sudden bout of anxious neighing and then she came to an abrupt stop, almost throwing me off. Before me stood a man. As I took in his dark hair and painted face, I realised that he was one of the Blue Ghosts I had heard mentioned numerous times; by my father, brother and many other servants in the domus. It was then that I realised that it was not just one _man_. I was surrounded. And there were two women in the group.

For an instant, I felt fearful. Was I now to die, after just gaining my freedom? But then I realised that if they had wanted me dead, I would already be looking down at my bloodied corpse from heaven; or at least I hoped that was where I would eventually end up.

I leaned down to whisper into Dice's ear, running a reassuring hand down her neck, hoping to calm her down. It would not do to be thrown off. Not to mention it would probably hurt a lot. The man in front of me made to move forwards, probably to grab hold of the reigns, but Dice reared back and I just barely managed to hang on. Deciding that it would be much safer on the ground, I dismounted, holding on to the thread of hope in my reasoning that these Woads did not want me dead. At least, not yet. The man stepped forward again; hand outstretched, palm face up. He wanted the reigns. Against my better judgement, I firmly shook my head. He did not look amused.

Suddenly, there was a knife at my throat and one of the women was snarling viciously in my ear. I knew she had no qualms about slitting my neck and bleeding me dry. An order from their leader was all that was holding her back from doing so. Again the man held out his hand. This time I was more compliant. He smiled, but I could tell he was disgusted with me; probably with my fear of death. For these Woads did not fear death. Woads feared nothing.

As he finally held Dice's reigns, cutting off any possible means of my escape, he gave the woman behind me a small nod. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel the sting of the blade digging into my skin. Instead there came a sharp blow to my temple and as I fell, I caught a glimpse of the woman standing above me, grinning in satisfaction. And then I slipped into unconsciousness.

---

**A/N: Hey everyone, this is my first story on fanfiction . net, though this isn't the first piece of fan fiction I've ever written. **

**I know the movie's kind of old now and I'm not even sure how many people are still reading King Arthur fan fiction but I was just itching to write this. I could never, EVER get tired of Tristan :P **

**To whomever is reading this, I hope you like it. **

**Kind of a random title I know, but I really like the song Vanora sung and just the wistful looks on everyone's faces as they listened. 'We will go home. We will go home. We will go home across the mountains.'**

**Please R&R. I love reading readers' comments on things I write; it helps me see what I'm doing wrong, what needs to be explained more clearly, etc. It just basically encourages me to write more :-) **

**I don't know how often I will be updating this because I have about 7 other stories online that are either only half done or are NOWHERE near completion. However, like I've said, I've been itching to write this story, so updates might be frequent. **

**Hope you enjoyed the prologue. Tristan appears in chapter one. Prologue and epilogue will be in first person pov but all the chapters in between will be told in third person. Just a head's up.**

**- Scribbles**


	2. Chapter I

**DISCLAIMER: Everything recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur; I do not own. Everything else is mine.**

**Third person P.O.V. from here on until epilogue. Might not be really historically accurate.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter I**

Dawn was just breaking over the Roman settlement. On the surrounding battlements stood a man, his arm outstretched, ready to receive the hawk swooping down towards him.

"Where have you been, huh? Where have you been?" he asked the creature, stroking it tenderly. "Come on then. Let's go get some breakfast."

Walking through the town just waking to receive the new day, the man made his way towards the lodging of Artorius Castus, Roman cavalry officer and commander of the legendary Sarmatian Knights. The hawk on his arm squawked as he entered the eating area of the domus, retreating to rest on the rafters above.

"Ugh. Do you have to bring that thing with you everywhere you go, Tristan?" complained another man with a groan as he entered the room, head clutched in his hand.

Tristan didn't bother replying, choosing instead to reach for a juicy green apple on the table. He bit into it with relish, the sound of the crisp apple causing the other man to groan again, which in turn caused Tristan to make more noise as he chewed.

"Damn you, man!" shouted the knight whose hand immediately flew to his head at the sudden noise. In softer tones he growled, "You just like seeing others in pain and misery, don't you?"

Tristan shrugged.

"Not my fault you got drunk again last night."

Another loud bite. Another bitter groan.

"Morning, Tristan. Gawain." Yet another man entered the room; tall with a scar running down the left side of his face. He was soon followed by three other men; talking loudly amongst themselves.

"I have every reason to be worked up! For weeks now I have been waiting for news of this Roman Bishop's arrival. And now, yet again another carriage with a Roman that's _not him_!"

"Galahad! Will you please shut up!" shouted Gawain.

Lancelot, the man whom Galahad had been speaking to, laughed.

"Surely everyone can tell you are brothers just from the way the both of you seem so irritated all the time."

"Hmm, yes. That and how neither of them can handle their drink," laughed Bors, who had entered the room with them, only to receive a black look from Gawain. He didn't let it bother him though since the other knight had been throwing around dark looks at everyone. "Hmm, Dag, pass us the flagon, will you?"

And so, the knights passed their time in the simple pleasure of a meal together; Tristan's hawk flying down every so often when it's master held out food to it. They were soon interrupted, however, by the arrival of the manservant, Jols, with a message from their commander.

"Arthur wishes to see all of you. Now."

They did not question the brevity of the message; Arthur would explain all later. They knew where to find him and were not the least bit surprised to see a Roman seated at the round table with him, flanked by two guards. No doubt this was an important man.

"Knights," greeted Arthur. Several of them nodded in acknowledgement of his greeting. "This is Senator Gaius Servilius. He has requested our help in finding his ward whom seems to have gone missing."

"How exactly does one go about misplacing a child?" mused Lancelot, ignoring the warning look Arthur sent his way.

Senator Servilius cleared his throat.

"She ran away from her home here in Britain." He paused as if struggling to get his next words out. "I would very much appreciate it if the great Artorius and his brave Knights were to help track her down and return her safely to me."

"Hmm, why should we risk our lives for a Roman brat?" whispered Bors with a grunt. His question had been rhetorical and thus he started when he received a reply; not from the Roman before him, but from a soft, gentle voice behind him.

"Would you, Sir Knight, really leave a poor defenceless child to the hands of the Woads?"

Both Arthur and the Roman Senator stood to greet the new arrival. She was a petite woman, but only in stature. Despite her size, she radiated a strong sense of convidence – and something else; power, which commanded obedience, and allure, which simply made one want to please her every whim.

"Lady Flavia."

"Shouldn't you be resting, my lady?" asked the Senator. "It has been a long and tiring journey."

Despite the formal tone of voice with which he addressed his wife, Arthur could sense the underlying hint of concern in Senator Servilius' silent plea. Here was a husband who cared dearly for his wife. Which was why he had trouble understanding the reason the man was seeking their help. Arthur was not a stupid man; he had read the allusions to the missing girl's real status in the Senator's household. She was no simple ward.

Lady Flavia had by now crossed the room and was assuming her place beside her husband, a thin hand resting briefly on his shoulder in reassurance; of what, Arthur was not certain.

"Commander, we humbly come to seek your help. I have heard tales, even back in Rome, of these Woad savages: pagans and violent ones at that, striking down innocent Roman households, sparing none. If anything were to become of the dear girl…"

She let her sentence trail off in a silent plea, which would have usually installed an unbearable guilt in the hearts of any man, but to the knights who'd seen such Roman tricks before; her tactics fell short.

Senator Servilius cleared his throat again. He was growing weary; it was time to go about this request a different way.

"I understand that you, Artorius, and your brave knights have been serving in Britain for fifteen years now."

Arthur nodded, uncertain as to where the Senator was talking this line of conversation. But experience taught him to be wary with Roman politicians.

"I think it would please you to know that even now, the Bishop Germanius is on his way…with your discharge papers."

More than one knight became more alert at the mention of their papers. Galahad was practically leaning forward; ears open with anticipation of his imminent freedom. The Senator smirked at the reaction caused by his words.

"You knights have served Rome faithfully, with bravery beyond contestation. Surely your great deeds will be praised for years to come. And when you become free men, undoubtedly your freedom will be followed with a showering of great wealth. But until then; your duty is still to Rome."

Gawain had to hold his brother back at this. Galahad had been all too ready to throw himself at the tiresome Roman. And he was not the only knight there to show his displeasure at the Senator's none too subtle threat.

"Our _duty_ is to the Roman church," clarified Arthur. "Not the Senate."

Senator Servilius nodded and smiled a cold, uncaring smile.

"That may be so. It is true that the Senate is no longer as powerful as it once was." A slight pause, followed by a vicious smirk. "But we still hold some sway over certain matters."

At this point, Lady Flavia placed a calming hand over her husband's own to quieten him. She was a sharp woman and had not missed the tension and hostility aimed in their direction, and despite her husband's domineering nature, she herself was a peaceful woman. She decided instead to entreaty herself to the knights' sense of honour and heroism.

"The Lady Aurelia is but a girl. Only just turned eighteen. The winter months are creeping up on us now. It gets colder and colder by the day. If the Woads don't get her, the frost will. I beg of you, do not leave the girl to die alone. You have served Rome well, despite the fact that this should never have been your yolk to bear. Now, with your freedom so close, surely your thoughts are of returning to the families you left behind. Sir Knights, think of this girl's family. All they want is to have her returned safely, as undoubtedly, is your own family's wish for you. I have heard tell that despite your reluctance to turn to the word of the Lord, you are men of honour. Surely, men such as yourselves would never leave a child to certain death."

Tristan had to pinch the bridge of his nose following the conclusion of Lady Flavia's speech. The dratted woman's flowery words were giving him a headache. And he hated how she had called their honour into play. If they refused to rescue the Roman brat now, how could they ever claim to be honourable men? He was beginning to wish he had never gotten up that day.

And he was not the only one. Bors was muttering to himself now and staring at his feet. Galahad still looked angry but it was clear to anyone that his anger was slowly dying and his resolution was beginning to waver. Dagonet and Gawain both wore expressions of resignation on their faces; they would go wherever Arthur led them. It was Lancelot who finally spoke up.

"Where are we to begin our search for this girl?"

Lady Flavia smiled, her face clearly expressing her gratitude. But it was her husband who replied.

"Up north. Beyond the Wall."

"But that's Woad territory," said Lancelot. "What is a Roman family doing there?"

"The Lady Aurelia's father, Quintus Aurelius, is a high ranking officer in the Roman army. He was stationed beyond the Wall for Rome had once thought to expand her empire even further. Now, he and a handful of soldiers attempt to keep the peace up north between the Woads and the small settlement of Romans there. As of yet, he has managed this quite well. There have only been a few minor scuffles since his posting."

"So you would have us risk our lives beyond the Wall?" Galahad's anger was returning with a passion now.

"Why don't you send your own men to rescue this ward of yours?" asked Bors none too politely.

"I know better than to underestimate these savages. Uncultured they may be, but my men stand little chance against them on their own soil. Artorius and his Knights, however – I am certain that if you are indeed the knights of legends, you will return unharmed. With the Lady Aurelia."

All men looked to Arthur then. With a heavy heart, he gave his men a discreet nod of assent. They would leave tomorrow at first light.

Bors sighed.

"Come along then, Dag. There're preparations to be made."

Gawain grunted as he turned to leave with his fellow knights.

"Hmm, don't forget the wine."

---

"Vanora! I swear! This will be our last mission and then I'll never, ever leave your side again."

There followed a loud smack as Vanora slapped her lover across the face.

"That's what you always say."

"Ahh," Bors growled, casting Vanora a lusty look. "Such fire, such passion."

Vanora's reply was quelled by his lips crashing over hers. Around them, their bastards giggled giddily.

The knights were waiting in the stables. Arthur was being detained by the Roman Senator whom had wanted one last word. He finally arrived to find most of his knights, with the exception of Tristan and Bors, already astride their horses, ready to get their mission over and done with.

Tristan was seated atop several bales of hay. Beside him perched his hawk; eagerly tearing apart the carcass of a rat it had caught earlier. Bors and his lover were still entwined in their passionate embrace. But upon seeing their commander, they lost no time in heading for their horses.

"Sir Knight."

Tristan was stilled by the gentle but firm grip on his arm. His eyes followed the slender hand to find the face of the Roman Senator's wife. She was holding something out to him in her other hand.

"Please," she implored, her smile faltering slightly at the cold blank stare he gave her. "Give this to the child when you find her."

There was a small moment when Lady Flavia thought she'd succeeded in her request of the knight, but then he shrugged off her hand and made his way to his steed without even a backwards glance.

"My lady."

Artorius was suddenly in front of her; a questioning look on his face. She offered him a small smile in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment.

"Please, if you will, I would much like to give the child a small gift."

Arthur knew what it was the moment she pressed the item into his hands. It was a string of prayer beads; something that he had heard was becoming very popular in Rome. Made of jet, a material so dark it looked black, the little prayer beads were intricately carved into roses. At the end of the string of beads hung a silver cross; symbolic of the one Christ was crucified on.

"So she may still her anger and eventually learn to forgive me."

Lady Flavia smiled at the confused look on the man's face. No doubt he had many questions; he was just too polite to ask them. But she was willing to satisfy his curiosity. Some of it at least. He deserved to know why.

"I am dying, Commander. For twelve moons now I have known this. And despite the man you and your knights see my husband to be, I love him dearly and would rather not have him suffer the loss of myself alone. And when he is old, he would need someone to care for him. I convinced him to agree with accepting Quintus Aurelius' daughter as his mistress and when I am gone, I have made him promise to make her his wife. The arrangement solved two problems at once."

The Lady Flavia did not clarify any further what the problems were and Arthur did not ask. He simply nodded, closing his fist around the prayer beads.

"I will make sure she gets them."

The woman smiled sadly again, looking deep into Artorius' eyes.

"You do not agree with my decision. I can see that plainly. But no matter – bring the child back safely."

And with one last smile, the Lady Flavia left.

---

**A/N: For some reason, I'm not quite sure if I like this chapter or not. It's all so poetically written. But that's how they spoke. And it is sort of fun to write.**

**I know Tristan doesn't really play that big a role in this chapter. Unfortunately, he won't be appearing in the next one at all. But come chapter three…POW! He'll be returning with a vengeance :D**

**Now…for the review replies. Are we allowed to do them at the end of chapters? I'm not sure. I didn't read anything about it in the guidelines, though I've heard apparently it's not allowed. Then there's that little reply button under the reviews left by those signed in. Oh well…somebody tell me if I'm breaking a rule here.**

**_shariena_: Here's an update. With Tristan! Glad you think it's good.**

**_Scouter_: -hugs- Updated. Gosh…excellent…-giggles-**

**_la_ _argentinita_: So true! Well, that will be explained later in the story. Everyone has their reasons for doing the things they do. It's all about perspective really. I try to make it so the characters don't just do random things for no good reason.**

**_Lady of the Plains_: Thank you. Stick around and tell me if you like the rest.**

**4 reviews out of 62 hits – not all that bad really. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.**

**- Scribbles**


	3. Chapter II

**DISCLAIMER:**** All characters recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur, do not belong to me. Everything, and everyone, else does.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter II**

A thin layer of frost laid over the camp, the smell of a still smouldering fire thick in the air. Nearby, a horse neighed nervously, clearly distressed. Aurelia felt her eyes flutter open against her will and immediately wished she were still unconscious. At least then she hadn't had to deal with the dull throbbing ache that lingered every time she tried to move her head. She heard movement and then felt herself jerked up onto her feet, her head swimming, giving her the slight feeling of vertigo. A gruff voice barked at her in a language she didn't understand and she felt herself being propped up against a tree.

Battling her disorientated state she was only dimly aware of a commotion at the edge of the makeshift camp. A cacophony of angry voices assaulted her ears. It took her a while to realise what the cause of all the noise was. The Woadish woman who had knocked her unconscious stood before the man she took to be their leader, gesturing wildly and clearly incensed. With one final furious shout, the woman gave the man a hard shove and snatched the reins of a skittish horse out of his hands; Aurelia's horse. It was only then that the young girl noticed the vicious looking axe the man held in his hand. In spite of her dazed state, it didn't take long for her to come to the most obvious conclusion; Woads had no use for horses. Dice was too much of a liability. Aurelia looked on in confusion as the woman then tied a rolled up piece of parchment to Dice's saddle and gave the mare a firm smack on her hind quarters, sending her into the dense forest in a frightened gallop. The young Roman frowned. Had she just been ransomed?

They travelled a great distance that day. Aurelia couldn't recall the last time she'd walked for so long. Her knees were beginning to ache and she was sure blisters were forming on her feet but she kept silent and didn't complain. It just didn't seem wise to do so. Deeper and deeper in the forest they trekked. Aurelia was certain that it would be impossible for any rescue mission to find her now. This was Woad territory.

---

Days blended into nights, and night to day, and Aurelia began to wonder if they were walking in circles. They would break camp as first light, hiked through the misty wilderness of Northern Britain until the sun set, settle in a small clearing for the night, and repeat it all the next day.

None of her captors paid any attention to her except when it came time for meals. But they weren't overly cruel to her either. At least they allowed her to fulfil the calls of nature whenever she needed to.

The Woads had an established routine at camp; everyone had a particular task to do, and each took turns keeping watch at night. The women had been assigned the chore of making sure Aurelia was constantly watched and were responsible for ensuring she was fed. It was during one of these meal times that something finally happened to break the monotony.

There was hardly any warning, just the slight rustling of leaves and then – chaos.

Aurelia recognised the trademark red tunics and the Imperial helmet – Roman legionaries. They outnumbered the Woads, two to one, yet the Britons seemed to hold their own. Letting out a fearsome war cry, they met the charging Romans head on and proceeded to dispatch them with a cold savagery.

The young girl's first thought had been of rescue; until one of the soldiers turned to her, gladius raised. Her bound hands scrambled to the hidden knife in her boot, forgetting that it was no longer there; disarming her had been one of the first things the Woads had done. They weren't about to start underestimating their enemy, even a frail, unconscious girl. She was still a Roman after all.

Scrambling through the undergrowth of the forest, Aurelia eventually felt her back hit the rough bark of a tree. The soldier leered down at her. She stared up in fear. Her eyes followed the movement of his weapon as it swung up; and then came bearing down with what looked to be horrendous accuracy. She wasn't ready to die.

Drawing back her leg, she lashed out viciously, aiming for his knees. There was a resoundingly sickening crack. The soldier cried out in agony, before he fell to the ground, dropping his weapon and clutching his injured leg. Aurelia hurriedly lunged for his sword, starting to work on freeing herself from her bonds. She felt neither the tight pull of the ropes on her wrists or the cuts created as she haphazardly hacked away; the blood simply made it easier for her to slip her hands free.

Aurelia made to get up but felt a sudden weight on her legs; the fallen soldier had latched himself onto her, stubbornly pinning her down. Without thinking, the frightened girl acted on her instincts and ran the gladius through the soldier's back, screaming incoherently. She stared dumbly at the bloody weapon, unable to comprehend what she had just done until a cry of pain shook her out of her stupor.

Not five feet away, one of the Woadish women – the same one whom had held a knife to Aurelia's throat the night she was taken – was on her knees, a short sword sticking out of her shoulder from behind. Her weapon laid abandoned, just out of arm's reach. Aurelia watched, rooted to the spot, as a Roman legionary mercilessly removed the gladius from the woman's shoulder, only to raise it in attack again. The girl had no doubts that the Woad was about to lose her head. She suddenly found herself on her feet, running towards the pair. It was only once she was lying atop the solder, having tackled him from the side, that she started to question her actions. She lifted her head only to meet the eyes of the Woadish woman, now standing above them, her weapon back in her hands. With an animalistic cry, the woman brought her battleaxe swinging down – crushing the skull of the soldier.

There was a moment of tense silence as the Roman girl and the Woadish woman stared each other down. Then, to Aurelia's surprise, the woman held out her hand to help her up.

All around them laid the bodies of the slaughter legionaries. The Woads themselves had only lost one of their number. Stepping over the corpses, they reached their fallen comrade and carried him from the battlefield. They walked a distance to a clearing and there dug a grave. Aurelia watched in revered silence as the woman she'd helped during the skirmish sang a wordless song that spoke of life and death, the people and the land.

They moved on after the burial, only stopping once, by a stream, to wash off the blood and grime. Staring at her reflection in the water, Aurelia saw for the first time the results of having spent days in the unforgiving forests of Britain. No wonder the legionary had turned on her; he probably thought she was a Woad.

Dinner that evening deviated from the usual routine. The Woads were more concerned about patching up their injured than about getting food in their bellies. Most ignored Aurelia whom had managed to clean out her own wounds at the stream and had staunched the flow of blood from her wrists with strips of cloth torn from her riding habit. Having gotten used to being almost invisible to her captors, she was startled when one of them suddenly seated themselves next to her, holding out a piece of salted preserved meat. It was the woman, her shoulder wound now tightly bound.

"Mair," she said, pointing to herself.

She then pointed to Aurelia, having to repeat the action a few more times before the young Roman understood what was being asked of her.

"Aurelia," she replied.

"Aurelia," Mair echoed, testing her name on her lips. Nodding, she gave the girl a smile; she liked the name.

Following Mair's example, Aurelia tried out the woman's name as well. It felt foreign to her, yet, for some reason, it reminded her of the sea, and that simple fact calmed her. As they sat in a state of semi companionable silence, Mair pointed out the other Woads to her. Gwendolen was the name of the other Woadish woman. Their leader, the one whom had wanted to kill Dice, was called Alun.

Mair waited until the young girl had finished her meal before examining her injuries. Unravelling the makeshift bandages, she nodded in approval at the cleaned wounds. They weren't very deep but Aurelia estimated that a few of them would leave faint scars. Retrieving a leather pouch from around her waist, the woman untied it to reveal a greenish paste that she then applied to Aurelia's wrist. The mixture felt cool against the girl's skin though it stung when it touched her open wounds.

"Chyfnertha feddyginiaetha," said Mair, rewrapping the bandages. Aurelia didn't understand but assumed the woman was simply trying to reassure her that she was helping not harming her.

Gradually, Aurelia grew more comfortable in the presence of the Woads. They had never once mistreated her, other than knocking her over the head that very first night, and since Mair approached her, the others had taken it upon themselves to be a little bit nicer. The girl no longer felt afraid of them and as the days continued to pass, Aurelia realised that, in some twisted way, she was actually free.

---

"Alun! Cenadwri! 'N bwysig cenadwri! Alun!"

Heads turned as a man ran into camp, wildly shouting for Alun. Distracted from her task of helping start that evening's fire, Aurelia would have crushed her fingers had not Mair stilled her hand, snatching away the flint and stone with an annoyed look on her face. Ever since the day of the skirmish, Aurelia was no longer kept bound but allowed to help around the camp under Mair's supervision.

Both Woad and Roman watched, curiosity piqued, as the messenger hurriedly relayed his news to their leader. It was hard to tell the nature of the message as Alun's face remained impassive. He only spoke once, to ask a question, at which point the messenger nodded, casting an angry sideways glance at Aurelia. The young girl looked to Mair in confusion but the woman could offer no answer to her silent question.

At the messenger's departure, Alun called for Mair, barking out her name with clear irritation lacing his voice. Seeing the young Roman's nervousness at being kept in the dark, Gwendolen shot her a tentative smile from across the would-be campfire where she was skinning a rabbit she'd caught earlier that day.

Aurelia watched apprehensively as Mair and Alun seemed to have an argument; Mair was clearly unhappy about something. With each retort, their voices grew louder and louder and Aurelia soon realised that their disagreement revolved around her; the fact that Gwendolen and the others were avoiding eye contact confirmed her suspicions.

After dinner that evening, Mair took Aurelia aside. The girl gave Mair a curious look, but all she offered in explanation was, "Nhanwydd" – wood.

Aurelia frowned. She'd been with the Woads long enough to learn the meaning of the word, yet she thought it strange that Mair would want to gather firewood as that was a task usually done while there was still light. In spite of this, Aurelia followed Mair as she walked away from the lighted camp area; unquestioningly. As they walked along Aurelia would bend down every now and then to pick up fallen tree branches, tossing them aside if they weren't dry enough. It was a while before the girl realised that Mair hadn't collected a single branch.

"Mair?"

Before her brain could process what was happening, Aurelia suddenly found herself kneeling on the forest floor, only the fading sting behind her knees gave explanation to what had happened; Mair had knocked her feet out from under her. Just as unexpectedly, she pulled out a knife and held it to the girl's throat; her towering position over Aurelia causing the tip of the blade to dig into the sensitive flesh under her chin. For what seemed like an eternity, Woad and Roman stared into each other's eyes; each searching for a particular something; both seeming to have found it.

"Edifara."

The word was whispered so softly that Aurelia thought she'd imagined it at first. Lifting the knife from the young girl's throat, Mair lodged it firmly in the ground by her feet with a simple flick of her wrist.

"You are dead now," she said haltingly in common Latin, using the simplest of words.

As Mair turned to make her way back to the camp, there came a blood-chilling scream that echoed through the forrest. For a brief moment, neither of them moved; shocked into stillness. And then, like a flash of lightning, Mair was gone, leaving Aurelia staring at the carved hilt of the knife by her; the Woad had given her back her knife.

---

**A/N:**

**Gladius: The Roman short sword**

**Chyfnertha feddyginiaetha: To help heal**

**Cenadwri! 'n bwysig cenadwri!: A message! An important message!**

**Nhanwydd: firewood (also chynnud, cynnud, danwydd, gynnud, nghynnud, tanwydd, thanwydd)**

**Edifara: I am sorry**

**All Welsh translated using InterTran (so it's most likely not very accurate).**

**I ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY dislike this chapter. Wrote it out three times and this is the end product of the second rewrite. It wasn't writer's block because I knew what was going to happen in this chapter (and the next) but I just couldn't write it down. It also doesn't flow as smoothly as the other two chapters. Hopefully you guys like it and I haven't lost too many readers. I'm so sorry for the long wait. I was also pretty busy with the performing arts troupe I'm with. But we're on a break now so I have some free time until season 3 starts up.**

**If I remember correctly, the Britons became the Welsh once the Saxons conquered Britain. I studied it in history before; Welsh means 'foreigner'. Or something like that. Which is why I'm using Welsh in this story because I couldn't find info on what specific language the Woads spoke in the movie and I figured Welsh would be the closest.**

**I haven't really read through/edited this chapter because I'm just so sick and tired of it already that I can't stand looking at it. So sorry for any mistakes.**

**On to reader responses…**

_**Lady of the Plains**_**: I'm so glad you think Tristan's in character. I find that one of the hardest things with fan fiction; if the characters aren't in character, the story isn't believable. Hope you like this chapter too though I personally think it isn't up to scratch with the others. But maybe I'm being too harsh on myself. Tell me what you think of it. Tristan comes back next chapter : - )**

_**ChloeDancer1015**_**: Thank you. It's hard **_**not**_** to love Tristan, even when he's being a total ass. I don't exactly watch the movie on a regular basis -collective gasp from hardcore fans- but I do watch it more times than some of my friends think is healthy.**

_**Scouter**_**: Updated!**

_**Ahve**_**: Attention catching; that's good -insert big cheesy grin- Let me know what you think of the update.**

_**la argentinita**_**: Mmm…yesh…Lady Flavia. She's a nice woman. A little misguided though.**

_**LegolasIsMine**_**: I personally think the knights would be mad about **_**any**_** mission they get. Haha! It is true that most fanfiction stories don't develop minor characters. I do think certain characters need to be expanded on though. However, I may not have done such a good job with that on this chapter -sigh- For thinking the story's fabulous (and I hope you continue to think so), here, have a virtual cookie.**

_**Vamsi**_**: I will definitely be continuing this story. I love it too much not too. It just probably won't be updated frequently. The next chapter should be easier for me to get out though. There'll be lots of Tristan goodness!**

_**peachpaige**_**: Ooh…it gives me a twisted thrill when people get pulled into my stories. Yayness! Enjoy this update!**

**Just so you guys know, reading reviews really encourage me : - D It makes me happy when I know people are enjoying what I'm writing.**

**Tristan's coming back next chapter. Yay!**

**- Scribbles**


	4. Chapter III

**A/N:**** Chapter 3…In which Tristan returns with a VENGEANCE! Yes, bring on the fangirl cheering and excited squeals! Though I will warn you right now that he might do something that some might think is ever so SLIGHTLY out of character, though not the kind of thing the letters OOC often bring to mind. I'll explain it later and give my reasons why I had him do it AFTER this chapter in YET ANOTHER author's note.**

**DISCLAIMER****: All characters recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur, do not belong to me (sadly). Everything, and everyone, else does.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter III**

The tracks were fresh, imprinted clearly in the ground made wet by the early morning dew. The ashes of their fire were grey and cold but then again so was everything else in this godforsaken country. It was almost as if it were physically impossible for anything in Britain to retain any warmth for too long a time.

They had been tracking this particular band of Woads for near two weeks. Ever since that horse had found its way back home.

A high-pitched screech sounded somewhere above them. Tristan straightened from his crouched position on the ground where he had been examining a particular set of tracks. Arm outstretched, he cooed at the bird as it landed on the offered perch, ruffling its feathers proudly. A dark blue scrap of cloth hung from between its beak.

Tristan noted the feel of the cloth.

"Silk."

"Looks like we've found the missing Roman," said Lancelot.

"Yes, well, let's just go get her and get back to the wall, hmm?" grunted Bors.

"What? So eager to see the Romans again, Bors?" teased Gawain.

Bors growled.

"I just don't like it here, that's all. Feel like I'm being watched."

"Bors is right. We should just get the girl and leave," said Galahad.

"How far ahead are they?" asked Arthur, aiming his question at Tristan.

"Half a day. Maybe less."

Arthur nodded.

"Ride ahead, Tristan."

The knight sent his hawk soaring through the air again before coaxing his horse into a gallop. Damn it all! He hoped to whatever god might be listening that the brat suffered cruelly at the hands of the Woads. Otherwise, this mission just wasn't worth the trouble.

---

When the knights had ridden up to the domus of Quintus Aurelius five days before, they had found the entire household in an uproar. The loud cries of a distressed woman could be heard coming from just inside the courtyard.

"They're going to kill her! They're going to kill my baby! DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO CALM DOWN, QUINTUS! DON'T YOU DARE!"

The voice of a young man rose above the woman's cries.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! THE BOTH OF YOU! DON'T ACT ALL INNOCENT, MOTHER! SHE RAN AWAY BECAUSE YOU _DROVE_ HER AWAY!"

The sound of the knights' horses trotting through the gates turned everyone's attention onto them.

"Who are you?" the young man snapped.

"Lucius!" admonished an older man. He turned to the knights. "I apologise for my son's behaviour. But this really isn't a good time for us to have any guests – "

"We're here on behalf of Senator Servilius to find your daughter," said Arthur cutting the Roman off.

The man's wife's head snapped up at Arthur's words.

"You'll find her? You'll find my Aurelia and bring her back to me?" demanded the woman, grabbing the leg of the nearest knight who happened to be Galahad.

Whilst his brother tried to calm the woman down, Gawain asked the question that had been on his mind.

"We were told she ran away yet you seem to be under the impression that someone has her."

This brought on a fresh onslaught of tears from the lady of the house. Whilst her maid tended to her, Lucius Aurelius handed Arthur a piece of parchment he had been holding in his hands.

"The letter is written in abominable Latin but we were able to just make out their demands. The Woads claim to have her and are willing to set up a trade – my sister in exchange for one of their own. The problem we're facing is that we don't have the Woad in question. The only locals we have in our household are all here voluntarily and we treat them very well. You may even ask Furia if you don't believe me. She was my sister's personal maid and knows everyone working in this domus."

The dark haired woman whom had been comforting Aurelius' wife lifted her head at the mention of her name.

"My lord and lady treats us all very well, mi lords. We are all well fed and clothed and want for nothing. This Woad that they claim we have, you'll not find her here."

Whilst Furia had been speaking, Lucius had been staring hard at Arthur.

"I know you!" the youth suddenly exclaimed. "You're Artorius Castus, commander of the Sarmatian Knights of the Wall! You'll rescue Aurelia, won't you? I know you will."

At the mention of the Arthur's name, Aurelius' lady wife once again lifted her head to him, her eyes brimming with hope and desperation.

"Artorius Castus? I have heard of you and your deeds. We are saved! You will bring Aurelia back. Of that I am certain. You will return her to us and she will marry the Senator. Everything will be as it should be!"

"Valeria!" exclaimed Aurelius. "Furia, would you please…"

The Briton bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment of her master's request and gently led the Lady Valeria back into the domus.

"I apologise for my wife's behaviour," sighed the Roman, running a tired hand through his greying hair. "She has been rather…distressed of late. Please…" He made a motion with his hand, inviting them to follow him into the domus. "Botar will see to your horses."

The servant in question quickly handed the reins of a horse he'd been holding over to another servant and rushed to tend to the knights.

"Were you planning on going somewhere?" asked Arthur as he dismounted.

Both Aurelius and his son cast looks at the other horse in the courtyard; a buckskin mare; saddled and packed down with several bundles. It was the younger male who answered.

"That's Dice. She belongs to my sister. She had galloped through the gates not two hours ago with that ransom attached to her saddle."

"They're smart, these…Blue Ghosts," said Aurelius. "Dice is an unusual colour. She would have attracted too much attention. Sending her back makes them nigh untraceable."

"Not untraceable," said Arthur, placing a reassuring hand on the Roman officer's shoulder. "Just slightly more difficult to find."

---

"Sir Knights! Please!"

A harsh whisper stopped Tristan and Galahad in their tracks. They had been on their way back up from the kitchens to the stables, replenishing their supplies. A slender hand pushed aside the sheer curtains hanging over a doorway. A delicate doll-like face peered out at them. Furia stepped out from the room, wringing her hands nervously in front of her. Standing in front of the knights, she felt her courage slipping away from her and suddenly wondered if she should be saying anything at all.

"You've gotten our attention, you might as well speak up."

Furia stared up at the knight that had spoken. The look of boredom on his face scared her. He was cold. Could a man like him really be one of the knights of legend, spoken of with awe by many in these parts? Would a man like him really rescue her lady and bring her back safely?

"I – That is – The Woads – " Furia faltered, cleared her throat, and started again. "The Woad that they're looking for. The one they want in exchange for my lady – "

"What about her?" interrupted Galahad, causing the Briton to start at the sound of his voice.

"I – I know of her. Most of us do. She's…Her family is considered important – "

"How does this help us?" interrupted Galahad again. Again Furia started.

"W – well, I – I just thought I should tell you that it is common knowledge amongst my people that she was taken by a Roman family. Except it wasn't this one, you see. But the Woads don't know that and – " Furia suddenly stopped. It looked like she was close to tears. "Aurelia has always been good to me. I couldn't ask to serve a better family. It's been days now. They'll soon find out that they have the wrong Roman. And then…they'll kill her."

"We already know this," said Galahad. "Which is why the sooner we leave to find her, the better."

The knights turned to leave but Furia stopped them again.

"Wait! Wait…"

"Woman, would you just come out and say what you want to say." Tristan hadn't spoken angrily. His voice seemed almost emotionless. It was the slight furrow of his brows that warned Furia that the knight was fast getting annoyed with her.

"When you find her…" Furia paused, as if struggling to get out her next words. "…don't bring her back."

Galahad frowned.

"Why – "

"Just don't!" Furia snapped. Then, as if realising what she had just done, she continued meekly once more. "Just…please."

---

"Artorius?"

Lucius Aurelius stepped out of an alcove where he had been waiting for the Roman cavalry officer to take leave of his father's chambers.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course," replied Arthur casting the boy a curious look.

"Maybe it would be best to just keep walking," said Lucius walking up to him.

As the two men fell in step with each other, Arthur waited patiently for the young Roman to start speaking.

"What exactly did my father tell you about my sister and her…situation?" Lucius finally asked.

"Not much. He said he felt responsible for her having run away. He said he knew she disliked the idea of marriage to Senator Servilius and yet he was forcing her into it."

Lucius gave a mirthless snort.

"My parents told me not to interfere with things I did not understand. But I know more than they think I do. Aurelia's marriage to the Senator will save our family. If she doesn't…I suppose that means my father shall never see Rome again. As for my family, our name will be in disgrace. But if she does, I'm afraid of what we are condemning her to. Tell me, Artorius, what have you heard of this Senator Servilius? What is your impression of the man?"

"I have met the Senator only once, back at Hadrian's Wall, when he sought our help in finding your sister. I have heard nothing ill of the man and as for my impression of him; he seems to love his wife dearly. If he were to show your sister even half the amount of affection as he does for the Lady Flavia, she would be very fortunate indeed."

A small smile that did not quite reach his eyes tugged at the corner of Lucius' lips.

"Yes. That seems to be the façade he gives to the public. But if one wants to know the true nature of a man, one should talk to his servants."

"And you have done that?"

"I had someone I trusted see to it when he arrived here a few days ago, before my father broke the news to him of Aurelia's…abrupt departure. And what sh – he uncovered, does not reassure me that this will be at all a harmonious match."

"What I fear most is for my sister's safety, commander," said Lucius as they exited the domus and crossed the courtyard, heading towards the stables. "And so I have a request to make."

Arthur remained silent but a quick flicker of his eyes in the young man's direction showed Lucius that he was paying close attention to what he was about to say.

"My request is that when you find my sister, do not bring her back here or to the Wall. Instead, I would very much appreciate it if you leave her in the care of this family I know. They are Britons but they will look after her. At least until the time is safe for me to bring her back home."

"Lucius, what you are asking of me…"

"It is a lot, I know. But I will tell you my reasons for this, I owe you at least that."

They stopped outside the entrance of the stables, both men knowing this was not a conversation they wanted others to be privy to.

"Aurelia will not be Servilius' first mistress. Nor his second. I am not absolutely certain of the facts, but this I do know; the Senator is not as he seems. He and his wife, the good Lady Furia, are hiding something, some sort of terrible secret perhaps. What ever it is, his own servants seem very reluctant, frightened even, to talk of the matter."

"Lucius, what you have just told me, that is all good and well," said Arthur with a neutral look on his face that made it impossible for the youth to discern what the man's true thoughts were. "But I cannot do as you ask. Not based on just your feelings and a few tight-lipped servants."

"But – "

"If I do not bring your sister back to the Wall, there is a chance my men will not receive their discharge papers and I cannot risk that. Not after they've risked everything fighting for a cause they never should have been dragged into in the first place."

Arthur's revelation silenced Lucius for a moment.

"I see." A brief pause. "It was presumptuous of me to ask you of this. I apologise."

"Lucius – "

"No, Artorius. You are right. Just…find her, will you? Before it's too late."

---

"I thought Tristan said they were only half a day's journey ahead of us," grumbled Bors. "I'm getting tired of this forest."

"They know we're tracking them," said Dagonet peering into the wall of dark trees surrounding them.

"And so they're moving faster," concluded Gawain.

"We keep moving," commanded Arthur. "Tristan will send word if…the situation changes."

"Or if you're making too much noise," came the voice of said knight as he detached himself from the shadows, seeming to appear out of thin air.

Arthur smiled good-naturedly.

"How far?"

"Just over in the next clearing. But…"

"What is it?" asked Galahad.

"The Roman's not in the camp."

Each knight knew the possible implications of this. They may already be too late.

"I want survivors," ordered Arthur, looking pointedly at his tracker.

Each knight nodded in acknowledgement of the order.

"We leave the horses here," said Arthur. "Use the element of surprise to our advantage." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "And don't make too much of a mess."

Feral grins spread across the faces of several knights.

"Survivors," reminded Arthur.

Tristan drew his sword from its sheath on his back, prowling through the trees towards the Woad camp. To his left, Lancelot had his twin double-edged swords in his hands, eager to kill a few Woads.

Suddenly –

"HANNEL! RHEDWCH!"

"Bastard!" growled Gawain.

In one deft move, the offending Woad lay dead, one of Lancelot's swords sticking out the back of his head.

"Well, there goes our element of surprise," said the knight with a wide grin on his face, retrieving his sword with little effort as he ran past the already cooling corpse.

Upon entering the glade, Tristan found himself immediately engaged with two of the Blue Ghosts. They circled him, snarling. He could feel himself become more and more aware of his surroundings with each passing moment. All the Woads had to do was make one move. He _wanted_ them to. Just as it was becoming almost unbearable – one of them lunged at him.

He could feel his eyes almost flutter shut as his sword sliced through yielding flesh. He could feel the chill that ran down his spine, like the light trail of a feather. It was beautiful.

The next one sent him soaring even higher. This one put up a fight. Or, at least, a semblance of one.

And when the woman came out of the trees at him, he didn't even think.

Some part of him registered the rage-filled scream; thought it strange even, for it wasn't coming from the Woad he'd just sliced open but from somewhere behind her – coming closer. He would have killed the girl had Arthur's voice not cut through his heavy euphoria.

"Tristan!"

His sword stopped less than a hair's breadth from her throat. A small trickle of blood wound its way down the curves of her neck. She should have looked frightened. But she wasn't. Just surprised; though whether at herself or him, he wasn't sure.

"Well, look at that!" exclaimed Lancelot, placing a bloody hand on his comrade's shoulder. "You found the little brat!"

Tristan slowly lowered his sword.

The Roman wasn't at all what he thought she'd be like. She was surprisingly fair for one of her kind and though her hair was dark, there seemed to almost be a reddish tinge to it. Her eyes were a chillingly cold grey; unusual for a Roman, unless her family had purchased their citizenships, but he highly doubted that. She was small for an eighteen year old, scrawny even. _This_ was the girl they risked travelling north of the Wall for?

He felt his grip tighten around his sword. He was going to kill that Senator when he got back.

As Tristan turned his back on the waif, he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his upper arm. He whirled around; sword raised once more, staring in disbelief at the girl. She glared at him. The little Roman brat tried to cut him!

They scowled at each other, neither one saying a word, each refusing to be the first to look away.

"How long do you think they'll be at it?" Bors asked Gawain as he wiped down his sword, sensing the opportunity for a quick bet.

"A miliarense on Tristan," said Gawain, pulling out a silver coin and carelessly rolling it across his fingers.

As Bors reached for the coin, a dull thump drew their attention back to Tristan and the girl, who was now laying on the forest floor, clearly unconscious.

"Tristan!" came Arthur's outraged cry.

"Now that's not fair!" complained Bors.

Lancelot barely held back a chuckle whilst Galahad sent Tristan a disapproving look.

"I suppose that's one way of defending oneself from the unfavourable glares of a woman," mused the knight, clapping Gawain on the back. "You should have gone with a solidus."

Tristan met his commander's eyes with a defiant stare. The girl had deserved it. And now really, he hadn't hit her that hard at all.

---

**A/N:**

**Hannel: trap**

**Rhedwch: (you) run**

**Miliarense: a silver coin fairly regularly minted and issued in the late Roman and Byzantine Empires. Equivalent to 12 solidus.**

**Solidus: a gold coin issued by the Romans. Introduced by Constantine I in 309-10 A.D.**

**Yes, Tristan knocked Aurelia out cold. Not very chivalrous at all now, is it? That was the slightly OOC thing I warned you guys about earlier. I know some people will not like the idea of Tristan hitting females but to me it just seemed to be something he would do.**

**I enjoyed writing his point of view of the skirmish. Remembering the movie indicating that he found pleasure in killing, I thought to describe the experience as something slightly…orgasmic. Or like being on a drug induced high. I chose to keep it simple because I thought that would be more effective than using oodles and oodles of words.**

**I usually suck at writing fight scenes.**

**I think this chapter's slight longer than the others. I hope it makes up for me leaving you guys hanging for so long. Do visit my profile though, if you haven't yet, because I've explained my reasons for the delay of this update there. If there's anything you guys need to know about the progress of the story, I'll post it there. So keep checking.**

**Well, I guess I've either lost quite a few readers or the last chapter was indeed as bad as I feared it would be since it only received 3 reviews. Sorry guys, hope this makes up for it.**

**My story isn't beta-ed (none of them ever are) so I apologise in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors. I'm just too tired to go through it once more.**

**PadFootCc, Scottishgal12: Thanks. Well, Aurelia and the knights finally meet face to face. Only they don't make that great a first impression, huh: )**

**Greendoggie: The 'boo' made me smile. Well here's the next chapter! Hope you like it.**

**- Scribbles**


	5. Chapter IV

**A/N:**** So it's my birthday today. And since you guys can't exactly send me presents I'm thinking you could leave me nice long reviews instead. I always welcome CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.**

**Speaking of reviews, I had a nice long rant about the decline in number of reviews the story's been receiving on my profile page. I mean Chapter 4 has gotten nearly a 180 hits since it got posted and still ONLY 4 reviews. Like one of my newer reviewers, ALA, said 'I cannot believe it doesn't have more reviews!'**

**If you like what you're reading, leave a review please. If you don't like it, please tell me what can be improved on. It's really disheartening for writers/authors to spend a lot of time on a story and not get any feedback. Right, moving on now…**

**Oh! I referred to Tristan as a tracker in the previous chapter, which he sort of is I suppose. But I'm referring to him as a scout in this one because it just sounds more…epic.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** Characters, events and references recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur, do not belong to me. Everything and everyone else does.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter IV**

Lancelot observed the scene in front of him with an amused glint in his eye. His commander and their scout were staring each other down. He knew Arthur wouldn't really punish Tristan; maybe give him a stern talking to, that's all. The girl _had_ attacked him after all.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," Arthur finally growled.

Tristan gave his commander a curt nod.

"Lancelot," said Arthur, turning his attention to his other knights. "Survivors?"

The knight grinned.

"I believe Galahad saved you one."

A bloodied Woad was brought before them; one eye almost sealed shut by blood that was already starting to clot. The man spat and hissed like a snake, attempting to pull himself free of Galahad's firm grip on him. But all he earned for his troubles was a firm clout on the head, courtesy of Gawain, before he was unceremoniously forced onto his knees, a sword held to his throat to prevent him from squirming too much.

"Why did Merlin order the capture of the girl?" barked Arthur.

The Woad kept defiantly silent, trying to look as intimidating as possible.

"ANSWER ME!" Arthur roared.

"Buchedd achos buchedd!" spat the Woad, his voice harsh and guttural.

"What did he say?" grunted Bors, nudging Tristan in the side. The scout glared at his fellow knight. "All right, all right! I'll ask someone else then."

Arthur nodded to Galahad.

"Let him up." He turned back to the Woad. "Tell Merlin that he made a mistake. Tell him that this girl and her family have nothing to do with your Woad."

"Gwna mo chrawn. Rhufeiniad dydy Rhufeiniad."

The only indication anyone had of what Arthur had done was the sound of metal against metal. The Woad had fallen back, shock and fear evident in his eyes. The look on Arthur's face could only be described as thunderous. Excalibur seemed almost to glow in the moonlight.

"One more word and I just might change my mind," snarled Arthur, bringing Excalibur level to the Woad's eyes. "Now go!"

The man scrambled up on his hands and knees, eager to get away before the knights decided to end his life anyway. They watched him disappear into the dense forest, none of them really liking the idea that they were letting an enemy go, one that might just kill them in the next skirmish or battle.

"Dag, how's the girl?" asked Arthur.

Dagonet, whom had been tending to the Roman whilst the exchange with the Woad was taking place, frowned as he answered his commander.

"Nothing seems to be broken." He lifted one of the girl's arms, unwrapping the crude bandages. "She's been through a fight though. Rope burns, bruises and a few deep cuts. But they've been tended to. She should wake up soon." He shot Tristan a look. "If Tristan didn't hit her too hard."

The scout gave a careless shrug.

"We can't wait around here until she does," said Arthur. "Since you knocked her out, Tristan; she'll ride with you."

"WHAT!"

---

Aurelia opened blurry eyes to the strangest sight she'd ever seen; the ground was rushing past her, mere feet from her face. It was almost as if –

Tristan grunted, more in surprise than in pain. He tried to still her struggling but all he got in return for his pains was another elbow to the gut. So he let go. It was pure luck really that she managed to roll out of the way of his horse's hooves.

Aurelia cried out as her head struck a tree root. As her vision wavered, somewhere in the back of her mind, the girl noted that this was the third time she was loosing consciousness since she'd ran away and she was getting really tired of it. For one thing, all these blows to her head surely must be doing some serious damage.

"Tristan!"

The shout felt like a stampede on her skull but it kept her on the brink of consciousness. Just barely.

Arthur was off his horse before it could even come to a complete halt. Grabbing his skin of water, he emptied half of it on the girl's face to keep her from passing out.

"She wouldn't keep still," was all his scout gave in the way of an explanation. No remorse. No hint of concern in his voice.

As the throbbing in her head died down, a scalding rage built up in the young Roman girl, flashes of what had happened before the 'knight' had struck her passed before her eyes.

_Mair…_

Mair had spared her life. The Woad had given her back her weapon and then disappeared into the thick forest following a terrifying scream. Aurelia remembered hesitating a moment, but then she had picked up her knife and followed Mair back to towards the camp. What she saw then, she was sure would haunt her dreams for years to come.

A giant of a man had stood over Gwendolyn – dislodging his axe from her head. Another stranger, this one a savage looking blonde, had cut down a man mere feet from where she stood, frozen to the ground in brain numbing fear. As she watched the Woad bleed to death, the man's amputated arm lying near his feet – still twitching – she felt the spray of something moist strike her face. She had brought her fingers to her lips then, not comprehending why they came away red.

She knew some part of her must have acknowledged Mair falling. Mair looking up at her from the ground with eyes like glass. Mair's blood covering her hands. She knew she must have because she screamed.

"You killed her!" Aurelia screeched, pushing Arthur away. She was on her feet before the other knights could even get off their horses to stop her. "You killed Mair. You…you…whoreson!"

"Are ladies supposed to know words like that?" wondered Bors out loud.

It was a while before the girl calmed down. Well, calmed down enough to stop shouting profanities at the only knight still on his steed. Breathing heavily, the young Roman glared up at the scout, pure hatred evident in her eyes.

"You, sir," she bit out with clenched teeth, "are no gentleman!"

"Never said I was," replied Tristan.

"You are no knight either."

There was a moment of tense silence where Arthur was afraid that Tristan just might kill the girl anyway, before the knight finally replied with a voice so menacing it had caused braver men to flinch. But the Roman didn't even blink.

"What did you say?"

"Mair – the woman you killed – she was unarmed. She had to no weapon. What kind of a knight kills a defenceless woman?"

"She was a Woad."

"What does that matter?" replied Aurelia in a voice just as quiet and dangerous as Tristan's own.

The man leaned out of his saddle, bringing his head closer to hers, though he still towered over her tiny frame.

"I think you meant 'did'."

An animalistic roar tore itself from Aurelia's throat. This time Arthur was quick enough to stop her; for she had been about to launch herself at Tristan, and seeing that the knight's horse on its own was taller than the girl, she would have simply been causing herself senseless injury.

"Stop it!" ordered Arthur in a voice that brokered no argument. "The both of you."

Reluctantly, the girl stopped struggling. Tristan finally got off his horse. And the sky began to lighten, signalling the approach of dawn.

"My lady," said Arthur, releasing Aurelia from his grip. "We are knights sent from Hadrian's Wall to rescue you and bring you back to your family. We did what we had to or the Woads would have killed you."

"They could have. But they didn't." This man seemed to be the leader, so Aurelia directed her next words at him, looking him straight in the eyes to make sure he understood. "When Mair brought me out into the forest, it was so she could kill me somewhere away from the camp. And she could have. I wouldn't have been able to stop her even if I tried. But she didn't. She gave me back my weapon so that I was armed and she wasn't. And then she let me go. The Woads might have taken me against my will at first, but they never once harmed me. I received more injuries when Roman legionaries attacked us. _They_ would have killed me too." The girl took a step forward so she was looking up into the commander's eyes. "I ran away from home. What makes you think I want to go back?"

Silence reigned, and by the time Arthur finally spoke, birds were beginning to awaken, their cheerful chirping echoing through the leaves of the trees.

"We have to keep moving, my lady. By now, others would have found your _friends_ and they're probably tracking us as we speak."

Aurelia was not as naïve as to assume that other Woads would be as kind to her as Mair was. _Other_ Woads would probably assume that she had some kind of hand in the massacre she'd witness, which, in a way, she had.

"As we didn't bring your horse with us," continued Arthur in a tone that made it hard for the girl to guess what was going through his mind, "I'm afraid you'll have to ride with one of us."

Arthur noted the flash of obstinacy in the young Roman's eyes. But he also saw that she knew they couldn't stay in one place for too long. Not in a forest that belonged to the Blue Ghosts. Not north of the Wall. Even she knew that was suicide.

"Fine! But I'm riding with him and no one else," said Aurelia, pointing at a curly haired knight who seemed to be the youngest amongst them and the only man there she hadn't seen kill someone.

Arthur nodded, indicating to Galahad that he should help the lady into the saddle.

"Very well then. Let's get a move on."

---

Reaching into his saddlebag for an apple, Tristan scowled. If it weren't for the fact that that damned Roman Senator was using their discharge papers as a bargaining chip, he would have slit that brat's throat himself. In fact, if the brat hadn't run away to begin with, they wouldn't even _be_ north of the Wall.

He took a savage bite out of his apple.

What he needed – was to kill something.

Arthur had sent him to scout ahead and he was half hoping to be ambushed by a few Woads. Killing a few of those Blue Demons would surely calm him down. Unfortunately, he encountered no one and by the time the sun had began its slow descent over the horizon, he had found a secluded clearing that seemed defendable enough for them to set up camp in.

Tristan watched as Galahad helped the Roman off his horse, like the gentleman he was. He could even hear the silly lad trying to start a conversation with her.

"I apologise for Tristan's behaviour earlier," said the young knight with a small smile.

Aurelia regarded him warily.

"Why are you apologising for him? Besides, _he's_ not sorry and _you_ did nothing wrong."

"I – well – right! Do you need anything? An extra cloak perhaps?"

Aurelia looked down at herself, taking in her torn riding habit and her muddied cloak. Despite its pitiful condition, it was still keeping her quite warm.

"I don't need anything. But thank you though," said Aurelia attempting a smile that didn't quite feel right on her face.

It seemed almost as if the knight was eager to get away from her. He practically ran to help set up camp.

"My lady."

It was their leader. The one she had heard several of the others refer to as Arthur. It was a name that was familiar. A name she had heard whispered almost reverently by others. A man she had once thought didn't really exist except in the imaginations of dreamers and bards.

"My lady," repeated the man. "We should be at the Wall in another five days – "

"If we survive that long."

Arthur cast the girl a discreet appraising look. He couldn't quite understand why she seemed to be so bitter.

"You should get some rest, my lady. My knights and I will stand watch so you need not fear for your safety."

"Of course," said Aurelia with a sardonic smile. "I do so worry constantly about my safety."

Just as she was about to walk away, Arthur stilled her with a hand on her arm.

"The Lady Furia wanted me to give you this. A token of good will and friendship."

The prayer beads were expertly crafted. Turning them over in her hands, she noted the smooth feel of the jet and the tiny grooves of the carved roses.

"A pretty trinket."

Arthur was slightly taken aback by her reaction to the gift but had enough experience with keeping his expression unreadable that it did not show on his face.

"You should get some rest," he said once more, before joining his men by the fire.

For a moment, Aurelia thought of making a dash into the forest but that idea was quickly dismissed. She had no wish to die young. Gripping the string of prayer beads almost painfully tight, she made to throw them away. But something stopped her. Maybe it was because it felt sacrilegious to do such a thing. She wasn't quite sure.

Looking the beads over again, Aurelia finally wound them around her right wrist before cautiously making her way towards the fire and the smell of roasting meat.

---

**A/N:**

**Buchedd achos buchedd: A life for a life (literally 'life because life')**

**Gwna mo chrawn: It does not matter**

**Rhufeiniad dydy Rhufeiniad: A Roman's a Roman (literally 'Roman she is being Roman')**

**As usual, translations gotten from Inter Tran, so I can't guarantee that this is exactly right.**

**Um…that's about all I have to say. Sorry if this chapter's not really exciting. It kind of is filler yet at the same time not really.**

**Well, my tiramisu birthday cake's waiting for me in the fridge : D**

_**Greendoggie**_**: Well…yeah…he didn't exactly have anyone to teach him manners : D Hope you like this chapter. Even if Aurelia didn't kick his – **

_**xXxDaguirixXx**_**: Thank you! I always love hearing from my readers. Even if the review is just to say they like the story.**

_**st.elmo-lover**_**: -glomps- Your reviews made me SO happy. That has to be the greatest compliment I've ever received. Hope this chapter keeps you a happy reader : D**

_**ALA**_**: Your prayers have been answered! Haha!**

**- Scribbles**


	6. Chapter V

**DISCLAIMER:**** Everything recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur, does not belong to me. Everything, and everyone, else does.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter V**

"_Aurelia! Furia! I know you're out here!"_

_Laughter filled the air as a shower of dried leaves hit Lucius on the head. Pulling a twig out of his dark curly hair, the boy looked up at the elm tree he was standing under. It did not take long for him to spot his sister and her giggling companion._

"_Somehow I don't think either of you quiet grasp the concept of hiding and seeking," said the boy with a sigh of mock exasperation._

_Both girls stuck out their tongues in reply._

"_Oh! Very mature!"_

"_I'm five, Lucius. I'm _supposed_ to be immature," said Aurelia with a wide grin._

"_Hah! Right! I'm coming up there!"_

_More high-pitched squeals erupted as the girls scrambled to get onto higher branches out of Lucius' reach. But the twelve year old was stronger and faster and soon had his sister in a firm grip around the waist._

"_Ah! Furia! Help!" shouted Aurelia in between giggles. "Lucius! Stop! I'm going to fall!"_

_The young Briton, seeing her friend in 'trouble', slid down off her branch to join in the foray. The children were so immersed in their play neither of them heard the branch creak or felt it dip under their weight._

"_Lucius! Aha! Let me go! Let me – "_

_Aurelia knew something was horribly wrong the moment she set her foot down on the branch to try and steady herself. One moment she was laughing, safe in Lucius' grip. The next, she was wildly grabbing at branches; screaming._

"_Aurelia!"_

_Lucius stared in horror as his sister hit the ground – hard. For a moment he could not understand what he was seeing. And then he heard Furia's scream._

"_Aurelia!"_

_On the ground, the Roman girl groaned as she tried to sit up. But she immediately fell back again as the blinding pain that shot up her arm made it nigh impossible for her to even try to support herself._

_The relief that flooded him when Lucius saw his sister move was indescribably. He practically leapt out of the tree without a care for his own safety. Furia followed close behind, on the brink of tears but too afraid to cry._

"_Don't try to move," instructed the boy as he examined his sister's injuries. "I think you might have broken your arm."_

_Tears welled up in Aurelia's eyes. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before._

"_It hurts," she whimpered._

"_Shh, it's going to be all right. Trust me." Lucius turned to Furia whom had burst into tears and was chewing on the ends of her hair to keep from sobbing out loud. "Go get my father."_

_Furia's eyes widened in fear._

"_But mi lord, he'll – "_

"_I promise you won't get into trouble," cut in Lucius. "Now go!"_

_While they waited for Furia to return, Lucius tried to take Aurelia's mind off the pain by talking to her._

"_There, there, don't you cry now. You're being very brave." He smiled as Aurelia tried to fight back tears and put on a bold face. "Why don't you tell me what you learned during your lessons this morning, hmm? I heard mother taught you how to identify plants today. Why don't you tell me about that?"_

"_I'd rather she taught me how to read," pouted Aurelia. "Like how father teaches you."_

_Lucius laughed._

"_Tell me what you learned today and I'll teach you how to read. How's that sound?"_

"_You promise?"_

"_Promise."_

"_Well," began the girl. "Flixweed is a type of mustard plant that grows upright and its stem is branched. It grows quite tall and can be used to cure the flux." She frowned, trying to remember the rest of her lessons. "Hemlock grows quite tall too and its stem is often spotted or streaked with purple or red. People quite often mistake it for fennel or parsley but one can tell these plants apart by crushing their leaves and roots. The hemlock produces quite an unpleasant smell when crushed. It grows mainly in spring and is quite poisonous so it should not be eaten. When dried, the poison is greatly reduced but not gone completely. The hemlock could be used as a form of sed-sed-"_

"_Sedative?" Lucius offered._

"_Right, sedative," said Aurelia with a smile, her pain forgotten by now. "But I wouldn't risk it."_

"_What else did mother teach you?"_

_Aurelia grinned mischievously._

"_She also said pilewort cures piles and scurvy. It grows low on the ground with fleshy, dark green, heart-shaped leaves."_

"_Well that's always good to know, isn't it?" laughed Lucius._

_Aurelia smiled up at her big brother._

"_Why won't father let me learn with you?"_

"_Because you're a girl," replied her brother good-naturedly._

"_That's not fair you know; an accident of birth judging what I can and cannot do."_

"_Accident of birth?" remarked Lucius with a raised brow. "You speak too wisely for a child your age."_

"_You mean I speak too wisely for a girl," countered Aurelia with a cheeky grin,_

_Lucius smiled._

"_Well what do you want to do then? It must be something quite outrageous if your gender hinders you from accomplishing it."_

_Aurelia sighed wistfully._

"_I want to learn to read and understand numbers like you and father do. I want to understand the stars and learn the language of the oceans. I want to travel to the end of the world and jump off it, just to see where it takes me. And then – I want to go to Rome."_

"_Rome? Why would you want to go there?" exclaimed Lucius incredulously._

"_To see the Pope," said Aurelia jokingly. And then in a more serious tone, "I hear it's a wonderful place. All the world's greatest thinkers gathered in one city."_

"_Rome is not as great as you think it is, Aurelia. I've been there. I know."_

"_Well I haven't and I'd like to see it for myself," she retorted stubbornly. "And besides, you were only two years old when you left. You can't have remembered much of it."_

"_Maybe I don't," said Lucius, all laughter gone from his voice. "But I do remember what it felt like to leave it. Rome…is no place for us, dear sister. We belong here now."_

_Aurelia looked up at her brother. She raised her good arm and cupped his face in her hand._

"_Why are you so afraid to go back?"_

_Before he could reply, they heard their names being called by a frantic but familiar voice._

"_Lucius! Aurelia!"_

"_They're under the elm, mi lord."_

_Their father was there the next moment, ashen faced. Upon seeing his child on the ground, he immediately fell to his knees, running his hands over her face and arms, checking for any signs of damage. Aurelia cried out as her father's hands brushed over her left arm._

"_I think it's broken," said Lucius._

_His father nodded._

"_It is. It will have to be set and held in place for a month or so. But it isn't as bad as Furia made it out to be."_

_The young Briton looked sheepish, eyes still red from crying._

"_Come on, then. Let's get the both of you home. Your mother's sick with worry."_

_Lifting his daughter in his arms, and asking his son to walk ahead of them, Quintus Aurelius slowly made his way back to his domus, acknowledging for the first time that nothing had scared him quite as much during his time as a legionary, centurion or a commander as that moment when Furia had run up to him without his children with her. The fear he felt when he saw the look on her face was something he would never admit to. But he knew it was a feeling he was dread to experience ever again._

---

"How much are they paying you?"

It was morning and once again, Aurelia found herself travelling with the young curly haired knight whose name she had yet to learn. Seated in front of him in the saddle, their journey so far had been quite awkward as the knight seemed truly reluctant to touch her. Even so, she could feel him tense up at her question.

"It's not a matter of money," said the knight coldly.

"Isn't it? I often find that it's _always_ a matter of money."

The knight gave a mirthless snort.

"Of course you would. You're a Roman."

"What does that mean?" snapped Aurelia attempting to turn around in the saddle.

But the knight kept silent, refusing to answer her. The sound of an approaching horse drew both their attentions and a fight was momentarily averted.

"How many did you kill?" called out one of the knights; a gruff, bald little man.

The one they called Tristan stopped in front of his commander, throwing down a Woadish bow and several other weapons.

"I didn't count," he said in a low voice.

"Well, he seems to be in a better mood," said the blonde knight, riding up beside them.

Aurelia stared at him in disbelief. Noticing the look on her face, the blonde chuckled.

"You don't think Tristan's always as snappy as he's been with you, do you?" His eyes narrowed appraisingly. "You seem to annoy him more so than most people do. And people in general annoy him greatly."

Up at the head of their makeshift caravan, Tristan was giving his report to Arthur.

"A small scouting party. They don't seem to be looking for the girl. Didn't seem as though they were expecting to come across us either."

Arthur frowned.

"Either the news has yet to travel ahead or – "

"Something else is worrying them," said Tristan coming to the same conclusion. "Something more pressing than a missing Woad and a runaway Roman."

"Something even more pressing than Sarmatian Knights in their woods." Arthur cast a searching eye at the trees surrounding them. "The sooner we get back to the Wall, the better."

Aurelia watched as the knight rode back into the misty forest.

"Well, Galahad," said the blonde, addressing his comrade seated behind her. "Just a few more days, eh?"

"Hmm, it's so close," said the smaller bald knight, riding up on their other side. "That bishop's probably waiting for us back at the Wall right now."

Even though she couldn't see him, Aurelia knew that the knight – Galahad – was smiling; a true smile of happiness. She could sense it in his voice.

"The first thing I'm going to do," said Galahad, "is drink until I can't see straight."

"You're starting to sound like Bors," laughed the blonde.

As they rode together, side by side, just basking in comfortable camaraderie, Aurelia finally understood. It wasn't money that drove these men on. It was something of far greater value. The same thing she wanted so desperately herself.

Freedom.

---

That afternoon, they stopped by a lake to give their horses a rest. Frost had already begun to form by its shores and the knights had to break through it to refill their skins with water.

It was a nice peaceful moment and Aurelia had found herself a quiet spot under a tree near the water's edge; far enough away from her travelling companions to be private yet still keeping within their sight.

The sound of rustling leaves drew her attention to an area just a little bit further down the lake. The knight called Tristan emerged from the trees almost as if he were a part of the forest itself. His horse whinnied, demanding attention, and Aurelia watched in shocked disbelief as the knight tended to his steed with a gentleness she never would have associated with the man.

"Are you done staring?" he asked after a while, in a voice just loud enough for her to hear.

Aurelia started, embarrassed at being caught.

"I wasn't staring," she protested.

Tristan didn't even bother to point out her outright lie.

"Are you always this unfriendly?"

"Always."

Aurelia got up, pulling her cloak closer.

"Will you go back?"

Tristan dipped his water skin into the icy lake, ignoring the young Roman.

"I suppose you have family there. Back in Sarmatia, I mean."

The knight lifted the skin to his lips, pouring the cool liquid down his parched throat.

"I don't have anyone in Rome."

"What do you want?" he asked in a voice that almost sounded weary. "Pity? Is that it?"

"No. I want the exact same thing you do. The same thing that brought your fellow knights over the Wall."

Even though his body was turned away from her, even though his hair fell before his eyes, making it impossible to read his face, Aurelia knew that Tristan was looking straight at her.

"Do not assume you know anything about what I want."

"But I do. That's why you were willing to risk your life to come rescue me from the dreaded Woads. You know what it's like to be forced into something not of your own choosing. You know what it's like to fight for your freedom."

"Freedom," said Tristan in a dangerously low voice. He turned to her then, eyes flashing in anger. "Do not talk to me of freedom when you know not what it is to be a slave to a cause not your own!"

There was an almost tangible clash of wills as knight and Roman stared each other down, each as stubborn as the other. Aurelia couldn't understand how a person could be as disagreeable as this knight apparently was. Tristan couldn't understand how a person could be as annoying as this Roman brat apparently was.

The other knights had finally noticed their confrontation and Arthur was ready to pull them apart again if needs be.

"Not again!" groaned Gawain.

"Funny how this always seems to happen when they're together," observed Lancelot.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" accused Galahad.

The knight simply grinned.

It was just a quick flash of light and most people would have simply dismissed it as their eyes playing tricks on them. But Arthur had enough experience to know better.

"Tristan!"

His warning was unnecessary, however, as Aurelia too had spotted the glint of light. Somehow she knew it was the reflection of the sun off an arrowhead. She wasn't sure how, but somehow she knew. She also knew that Tristan wasn't aware of the danger as his back was towards that particular part of the forest.

The knight was shocked to say the least when the girl threw herself at him. But his surprise was short-lived as he realised that her actions had landed the both of them on the lake – on very thin ice.

Aurelia felt Tristan's glare even as the ice cracked and gave way beneath their feet. Burning anger emitted him off in waves and as they fell into the water, Aurelia strangely found herself thinking of how it wasn't as cold as it should be.

---

**A/N: You can all thank LadyMiyu for that last bit where Tristan and Aurelia ended up in the lake. She actually suggested a pond but her suggestion inspired me to throw both characters into a freezing lake, so there :D Greendoggie also suggested something in an earlier review that included water so she should also have partial credit.**

**Getting the information on the story out of the way first: Aurelia's description of the plants and their uses in her little flashback/memory thing were taken from wikipedia. The plants are also all native to Britain.**

**The flux, or bloody flux as it was sometimes called, is an old name for dysentery. I won't explain what that is. If you're not sure, look it up in the dictionary. Let's just say it's unpleasant.**

**The piles, well that's more commonly known these days as haemorrhoids.**

**Well, I want to thank everyone who reviewed that last chapter. It's nice to know you guys read my ranting author's notes : ) Thank you for the birthday wishes too.**

_**LadyMiyu**_**: It's all right that you didn't have time to leave a review before. Your review now more than made up for it. It inspired me, which is why I've updated sooner than I usually do. I know there isn't a lot of Aurelia-Tristan interaction, but I'm working on that :D**

_**PadFootCc**_**: It's great to hear from you again! I'm glad that you like Aurelia. I'm rather fond of her too.**

_**Aethelind la Fay**_**: Ah…the big secret about Lady Furia…well, you'll just have to keep reading to find out:D She was actually just supposed to be a minor character but somehow the whole situation with her and her husband and with Aurelia's family seems to keep growing and growing in my mind.**

_**st.elmo-lover**_**: Updated! Truthfully this is sooner than I usually update so I have to warn you that the next chapter might take a while.**

_**Greendoggie**_**: Haha! For some strange reason I always feel sixteen. Maybe I'm just refusing to grow older mentally or something. Your reviews amuse me so :D Yeah, Tristan does have **_**slight**_** anger management issues. Just slight though. Ah…the thing is I already know how the story's going to end but I can't tell you if she does or doesn't have to do what you hope she doesn't have to do. And it's good to hear that someone understands my frustration about the whole hits and review thing. I'll go check out your story soon and leave you a nice long review :D**

_**cleopatra32003**_**: Yeah, he does sound like a rebellious teenager doesn't he? He's not always like that though. Aurelia just annoys him a lot.**

_**peachpaige**_**: I think you left a review once before. Well, here's an update! Hope you like it : )**

_**xforgottenxmemoriesx**_**: It's all right that you disagree with my assessment of Tristan's love for killing. Watching the movie, that's just how it came off to me. And Galahad did make it a point to say he killed for pleasure. To me, pleasure something close to orgasmic. Maybe it's just me -slaps self- need to get me mind out of the gutter, eh? Thank you for your review. Saying that it seems real to life is a great compliment to me.**

**I also thank everyone who's added my story to their Story Alert list. There's quite a number of you and I really appreciate it. Well, I think that's all I wanted to say. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!**

**- Scribbles**


	7. Chapter VI

**DISCLAIMER:**** Everything recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur, does not belong to me. Everything and everyone else does.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter VI**

Bubbles swirled around her as Aurelia tried to find her footing on the slippery lake bottom. The initial warmth she felt had long disappeared and the icy water now seemed like a hundred knives stabbing her at the same time. She couldn't see Tristan; didn't know if he was still under the water with her or if he'd already made his way to shore. And to make matters worst, arrows were now raining down all around her, slicing through the water as easily as they would air.

Bursting through the surface of the lake, the girl gasped breathlessly, lungs burning. Her relief was short-lived, however, as she soon realised that they were in the middle of yet another bloody skirmish. A hoarse cry alerted her of a painted Woad charging towards her, axe raised above his head.

Her eyes widened in fear as Aurelia tried to comprehend what was happening. She took a hesitant step back as she realised that the fact that she was in the lake did not deter the battle-crazed man, he was going to kill her where she stood. Aurelia felt her throat constricting. She couldn't scream; couldn't even close her eyes against the sight of oncoming death. She unthinkingly took another step back.

And slipped on an algae covered rock.

It was the one thing that saved her life. Her senses finally returning to her, Aurelia swam frantically. The only thought running through her mind was to get as far away from the Woad as possible.

A scream wrenched itself from her throat, swallowed by the water as she fought desperately against the hand she suddenly felt clamp around her neck. Aurelia dug her nails into the flesh of her attacker, hoping that somehow it would make whoever it was release her. She felt a sharp yank and the sudden rush of air into her protesting lungs surprised her. She was no longer underwater.

A shrill whistle sounded in her ear and thundering hooves bore down on them. She felt her attacker – or was it rescuer? – throw her into the saddle of the horse that had stopped mere feet from them. She turned her head, feeling the need to say something, and met the gaze of a pair of unreadable eyes.

"Hyah!" Tristan cried, giving his dappled mare a firm smack on its hindquarters.

Aurelia opened her mouth to protest but the horse was already galloping away from the fight, ploughing down anyone who stood in its way. The girl clung helplessly to the reins; no matter how hard she tugged at them, the animal seemed determined to get to its destination – wherever that was.

Her wet hair whipped painfully into her eyes, the wind doing little to help her shivering frame. The horse never once slowed its speed and Aurelia eventually began to feel quite sore from the pounding impact of its hooves against the hardened ground.

"Please stop," she whispered hoarsely, though the equine neither heeded nor understood her request.

Fortunately, a familiar whistle soon echoed through the trees. The horse made an impossible turn around a particularly large tree and tore through the British forest, the Roman girl once again helpless to do anything about it. Crashing through a prickly gorse bush, they came to a sudden stop that almost threw Aurelia out of the saddle.

"Woah, girl! Shsh," said a claming voice.

Aurelia felt someone lift her out of the saddle and tried to stop her knees from buckling when her feet hit solid ground.

"My lady, are you all right?" asked Arthur rushing up to her in a manner that both managed to still look dignified and hid his worry.

"I'm fine," Aurelia managed to get out, though her shaky voice betrayed her.

Taking stock of her surroundings, she realised that the knights were once again covered in blood from head to toe; something that seemed to be a regular occurrence with them. Breathing heavily, their faces an ugly contortion of anger, pain, and for some, blood lust, they were a sight that would have struck fear in the hearts of many a brave man. Aurelia felt her gut twist violently.

"I – excuse me!" muttered the girl as she rushed to empty her stomach behind a tree.

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Aurelia propped herself against the other side of the evergreen, not trusting her legs to support her unaided. Everything seemed to be catching up to her in that one moment; all the weeks she'd spent in the harsh forests of Britain, all the death she'd seen. She was starting to feel the physical and mental toll on her body. But through it all, she could hear an incessant voice at the back of her head, screaming at her to push through the pain. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"It gets easier," said Galahad, an understanding look on his face.

Somehow, Aurelia managed to smile. Which in turn led to a giggle, which then turned into unbridled laughter.

"Hmm, she's finally lost it," observed Bors, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand which only served to spread more blood across his face.

Galahad looked at her worriedly.

"What should we do?"

His answer came from an unexpected source.

"Leave her be," said Tristan.

Heads turned towards the scout. Gawain gave him a curious look that went unnoted since Tristan had had his back towards them when he'd spoken, dutifully tending to his mare, making sure to properly cool it down after its haphazard ride. They knew better than to expect him to say more or to explain what he meant. The knight pulled his brother away from the Roman.

"Leave her be, Galahad," said Gawain, repeating Tristan's words.

"We'll make camp here for the night," said Arthur. "Dagonet, take the first watch."

By the time a fire had been made, Aurelia's laughter had subsided to the occasional hiccup and her teeth were audibly chattering. The smell of cooking meat, a pair of rabbits that one of the knights had caught, wafted towards the Roman and her hunger made itself known. However, the thought of food threatened to make her throw up again and it was not an ordeal Aurelia was tempted to repeat so soon.

"You should go sit by the fire."

The girl looked up to see Tristan looking down at her. Strangely, she noted that he didn't look as scruffy as he usually did. _Must be from the fall into that lake_, she thought.

"You're staring again."

Aurelia frowned.

"Am not."

Aurelia could have sworn she heard the knight mutter to himself but was soon distracted by the fact that Tristan had pulled her up off the ground and swung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Before she could even open her mouth in protest, he'd already dropped her rather unceremoniously on the ground, dangerously close to the fire. Gawain, whom had been keeping an eye on the spitted rabbits roasting over the flame, looked up briefly before returning to his work, turning the meat over slowly.

"You might want to watch yourself," he warned quietly as he used his knife to test the tenderness of the rabbits.

The girl looked confused for a bit before noticing the edge of her cloak had fallen closest to the fire and was starting to smoke. She hurriedly pulled it back, using her hands to pat down the warm and slightly singed fabric. She glared at the scout.

"I could have walked, you know," Aurelia muttered but Tristan ignored her.

She watched as the knight retrieved something from Dagonet's saddlebags and returned to sit next to her. Wordlessly, he grabbed her arms and proceeded to unravel the dirty bandages around her wrist. He turned her hands over in his, seeming to peer critically at her wounds, before grunting. Aurelia took that as a good sign.

"Leave the bandages off," instructed Tristan as he applied the salve he'd taken from Dagonet's bags on the girl's wrists, not bothering to look up from his work. "In their current state, they'd infect the wounds."

"Um…thank you," said Aurelia meekly, unsure of how to react to the scout's uncharacteristic pleasantness towards her and wondering why _he_ was tending to her and not Dagonet. _Probably because Dagonet's standing watch, you silly goat_, she chided herself.

Aurelia felt an involuntary shiver creep up her spine as one of the knight's calloused fingers brushed a particularly tender cut. If Tristan noticed, he didn't say anything. In fact, he almost seemed to press the healing flesh even harder. The girl tried not to think of it as the scout's own spiteful way of getting back at her for causing their fall into the lake.

With one last prod and another unintelligible grunt, the knight got up and left without so much as a backwards glance. Aurelia felt a familiar tinge of annoyance at the man's return to his enigmatic self.

"Hmph! He probably finds being nice emasculating," she reasoned to herself, a malicious grin forming at the thought as she unconsciously edged closer to the fire.

---

Tristan had to admit; that afternoon's fight had done him quite a lot of good. Once he'd gotten the girl out of the way, he'd managed to work out a lot of his frustration. Killing a few Woads did always improve his mood.

"Have you had that in your saddlebag since we left the Roman's home?" asked Lancelot with a slightly disgusted frown; walking up to the tree the scout was leaning against.

Tristan looked at the apple in his hand. Taking a bite out of it, he jerked his head over his shoulder.

"Found a late blooming apple tree."

An amused smile tugged at the corners of Lancelot's lips.

"Trust you to be able to find one out here."

A comfortable silence settled between the comrades, punctuated only by the crunch of the crisp apple. Dagonet passed them once during his watch, acknowledging them with a slight nod of his head. The others, with the exception of Arthur, had gathered by the warmth of the fire, eager for a hot meal and good company.

"She seems to be growing on the men," commented Lancelot as they watched the young girl laugh at one of Bors' exaggerated and rude stories.

"I suppose she isn't half bad. For a Roman," he continued with a smirk when his fellow knight remained silent. "What do you think, Tristan?"

With a vicious bite of his apple, the scout gave his fellow knight an unreadable look. Lancelot waited patiently, his smirk threatening to turn into an impish grin as the moments ticked on.

"The girl's more trouble than she's worth," he finally ground out.

"Of course," replied the curly haired knight. "She seems more Galahad's type anyway."

They watched as said knight offered the Roman a cut of meat, which she accepted with a smile. Tristan snorted.

"Though it's strange, don't you think?" mused Lancelot, a devilish glint in his eye. "How you've been more irritable than usual with her around. You're usually so…_quiet_."

The scout took one last bite out of his apple core.

"Isn't it your turn at watch?"

Without waiting for a reply, Tristan pushed himself off the tree. Lancelot chuckled to himself. The crack of a dry twig alerted him of an approaching presence but the knight wasn't too alarmed.

"How was your conversation with God? Has He shown you what we're to do with this Roman?"

"You don't like this either do you?" inquired Arthur.

"The Romans are keeping something from us. I don't like secrets," replied his trusted knight.

Arthur nodded. He then broached a subject that had been weighing heavy on his mind.

"This afternoon's attack – "

"The Woads are up to something. They're always up to something."

"They were coming up from the South."

"They _usually_ come down from the North." Lancelot turned to his commander, eyes wide, as a thought dawned on him. "You're not thinking of riding further North are you?"

"There seems to be something happening on the coast," Arthur muttered distractedly. He turned to Lancelot as the knight opened his mouth in protest. "Our orders are to get the girl back to the Wall as soon as possible."

Lancelot sighed exasperatedly.

"Ah yes, our orders. Though I suppose better the Wall than the Northern coast." A smile spread across his face. "The girl does seem to be doing our boy some good, doesn't she?"

The friends shared an amused look.

"When do you think they'll notice?"

"Most probably never," answered Arthur. "They're both as stubborn as a pair of mules."

"Ah well, at least we'll have something entertaining to distract us on the journey back," laughed Lancelot.

"You're enjoying this a little to much," said Arthur with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be relieving Dag of the watch?"

"Fine! Fine! I'm going!"

The cavalry officer couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. Lancelot was right though. But it wasn't just the girl. Arthur turned to the fire where Tristan had finally joined his brothers in arms, accepting a cut of meat from Bors and even offering a quip to Gawain's good-natured teasing of Galahad that earned him a laugh from the young Roman.

They were both doing each other a lot of good; whether they knew it or not.

---

Moonlight shown through an open window in a domus in the city by Hadrian's Wall, casting shadows across the small figure lying on the bed. The silver rays picked out the delicate features of the petite woman, reflecting off the odd strand of grey amidst the dark halo spread across her pillow. The soft click of a lock announced the arrival of her husband.

In contrast to the woman on the bed, the man's features were harsh. The corners of his mouth turned down severely, almost as if a smile were something foreign to him. His eyes were small and dark and reminded many he met of a rodent's. He had started to lose his hair early and what little he had left had all gone grey. Yet, upon seeing his wife, he quietly made his way over to the bed and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead.

"How was dinner, my love?"

"Did I wake you?" asked the man, his voice laced with concern.

The woman sat up, a gentle smile gracing her face. Reaching up to cup his cheek, her soft, pale skin further emphasised by the coarseness of his, she placed a tender kiss on his lips.

"You worry too much."

Her husband gave a soft, humourless laugh. His hand climbed up to find hers, cradling it as if it were glass.

"Of course I do. You should be back in Rome. _We_ should be back in Rome. You know how I hate the outskirts of the empire."

The woman smiled again.

"How was dinner?" she repeated.

The man sighed, well aware of the deliberate change of subject.

"The boy's just like his father. He practically lived at the bottom of the amphora the entire night."

"He's worried about his sister," his wife reasoned. "And Valeria?"

"Inconsolable. The woman's a positive wreck." He sighed again. "Why are we here, Flavia? Let's just forget the girl and go back to Rome."

Flavia giggled.

"Are you pouting?" Her smile was loving – warm. But it did not take away the gravity of what she said next. "Gaius. Love. I know you want to simply ignore it. But you can't. In a year, maybe less, you won't have me here anymore. That's why we're here. Oh, my love…"

Pulling her husband into her arms, Flavia rested her head next to his, whispering comforting words into his ear.

"Well, at least she's from a good family," murmured Servilius eventually. "And the connections on her mother's side could come in handy one day, I suppose."

Flavia laughed.

"Yes, the Lady Valeria comes from very good breeding. Her father, for example, could do much for your position in the Senate. See? It's not so bad."

Gaius Servilius grunted.

"Good thing you decided to help Aurelius then. I congratulate you on your excellent foresight, my lady."

Flavia smiled good-naturedly. She knew her husband wasn't really annoyed with her. He never was. This was just how he dealt with his emotions.

"Good thing _we_ helped Aurelius." She ran her hand through his sparse tuft of hair. "You will keep this one, won't you?"

Servilius threw his hands up in frustration.

"The others deserved what they got! They never should have – "

"Shush, love, shush. I know," said Flavia in a calming voice. "They were young and thought the world bowed at their feet – "

"But I showed them," said Servilius with a rare but satisfied and slightly crazed smile on his face. "I showed them."

"Yes, love. Yes you did. Now come give me a kiss goodnight. I'm growing tired."

"Of course. I never should have kept you up."

Leaning over to press a soft kiss against her lips, his every touch a gentle caress, Servilius bid his wife a good night.

"Sleep well, my lady. Dream sweet dreams."

Flavia smiled sleepily up at her husband as he pulled the covers over her, making sure she was as comfortable as possible.

"Everything will be all right, my love. You'll see."

"Of course," replied Servilius quietly as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.

He stood over her until her breathing evened out. Watching his wife sleep, Servilius felt a painful tug at his bitter heart. He didn't know what he would do with himself if she were gone. She was…He just didn't know…

"Everything will be all right," he whispered to himself, his voice betraying a steely determination.

Picking up an unlit candle that sat atop a small table by the bed, Servilius brought it over to the open window, lighting it to provide the further illumination he needed. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a tightly rolled scroll. It was unusual in that the parchment was as dark as the deepest ocean abyss. So dark that it didn't even pick up the light of the candle or the moon. It was sealed with wax of the richest crimson and an unknown crest not recorded in any heraldry.

With one last look at his slumbering wife, Servilius pulled out a small knife he kept on his person and broke the seal.

---

**A/N:**

**Amphora: a clay jar used to hold wine**

**I love the relationship between Flavia and Servilius. It's slightly twisted. But I love it all the same. This will probably be only time you'll ever see them like this though.**

**Before someone says something like 'The movie never said Gawain and Galahad were brothers!!!!!!' according to some Arthurian legends they were stepbrothers. So I'm going with that.**

**Tristan and Aurelia are coming along. Slowly but they're coming along.**

**No review replies from now on because it's been pointed out that my author's notes are a quarter as long as the chapter itself and I admit, I do ramble on. Even though I've realised that the reply button below the reviews is no longer there, I'll still try to reply to each of you personally. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed (especially those who take the time to do so EVERY chapter). So here comes a list:**

**LadyMiyu, st.elmo-lover, Greendoggie, xforgottenxmemoriesx, peachpaige, neelaplushenko, Vamsi, BornWithAFever, murtagh799, chloedancer1015, mina, shariena, tristans-hawk**

**I also thank all my new watchers and those who've fav-ed this story. I really appreciate it.**

**I'm moving next week, so it might be a while again until the next chapter gets posted. Hope this tides you guys over.**

**Much love to you all!**

**- Scribbles**


	8. Chapter VII

**DISCLAIMER:**** Everything recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur, doesn't belong to me. Everything else does. SO NO USING WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! Besides, I bet you guys could come up with something way better on your own.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter VII**

Galahad was worried. He could feel the Roman shivering through her cloak as she sat in front of him in the saddle, but that was not the only thing bothering him. This morning he had woken to a very strange sight. The girl – _Aurelia_, he corrected himself – had been huddling near the dying embers of that night's fire, wrapping fresh strips of cloth round her hands. He could see spots of red already soaking through the material. He had tried to ask her about it, but she had simply brushed his questions off, saying it was nothing important. And now she was starting to sneeze.

Aurelia was angry. And for once her anger was directed at no one else but herself. Memories of the day before had come rushing back as she woke that morning, memories of her panic during the Woad skirmish and her subsequent breakdown. Memories she wasn't proud of. Memories that filled her with an unexplainable rage the longer she laid staring up at the slowly lightening sky.

She had crept over the prone body of Gawain, narrowly avoiding his arm as he flopped over rather suddenly, muttering about tavern wenches and cows. Walking a slight distance from the camp, Aurelia had let her feet wander where they will, deeply immersed as she was in her thoughts.

What was she doing? She no longer knew. Aurelia had always thought herself strong, mentally if not physically. But now she questioned herself. Was she strong for defying her parents? Was she brave for having run away? Was she right in killing a man, even if it had been to save herself? And what right did she have to freedom if she could do nothing to save a friend?

With an anguished cry, her hand flew forth, striking the unyielding trunk of a nearby tree. Over and over, she struck the rough bark; seemingly unaware of the damage she was causing herself, of the blood that now ran freely down her fingers. Over and over. Harder and harder. She heard a loud crack but felt nothing. _Stupid, selfish girl!_

As Aurelia struck out again, a hand suddenly clamped around hers, slowly tightening its grip until she finally stopped struggling against it.

"What do you think you're doing?" an angry whisper sounded in her ear.

Her captor pushed her away from him roughly when he felt her grow slack in his arms, fairly certain that she wasn't about to go attacking another tree. Aurelia glared defiantly at him, as if daring him to judge her.

Tristan's look was unreadable as he stared back at her, both refusing to be the first to look away.

Now that she was no longer hitting the tree, Aurelia could feel the pain start to creep up her arms. It was as if she had placed her hands into scalding water. She noted as well the tears that had been running down her face, going unchecked until now. Aurelia made herself a promise then that this would be the last time she cried.

Finally the knight sighed, exasperatedly. He made to move towards her but the girl backed away, anticipating what he was about to do.

"I can walk just fine on my own," she snapped.

Tristan gave her a cool look but did not approach her again, turning instead to make his way back to their camp, not once bothering to check if she followed. Upon their return, Tristan retrieved first a wineskin from Bors' saddle and then what looked to be a clean tunic from Lancelot's saddlebags.

"Your hands," he said gruffly.

It did cross her mind to refuse his order, but the pain won out in the end.

Removing the stopper from the skin, Tristan emptied near half its contents over Aurelia's outstretched hands. The girl could have sworn she saw his lips twitch as she hissed at the burning sensation the liquid caused her open wounds. Whatever was in Bors' skins, it certainly was not water.

Aurelia couldn't help the quiet gasp that escaped her lips when the knight suddenly drew a knife that had been hidden on his person, holding it close to her face.

"Bite," he ordered, presenting her with the leather bound hilt of the weapon. At the confused look on her face he added, though not without a slight irritation in his voice, "Some of your fingers need to be reset. Unless you'd rather not use your hand again."

Looking down at her left hand, Aurelia realised that a few of her fingers were sticking out in an unnatural way.

"Oh."

"Bite," he said again.

Tristan had to admit; there was something admirable about the girl's stubbornness. She refused to make a sound as he pushed each finger back in place, though there was a moment where he thought she might faint when her eyes rolled to the back of her head. By the time the last finger was finally set, the Roman was breathing heavily.

Removing his knife from between her teeth, the knight cleaned its hilt on the sleeve of Lancelot's tunic and then proceeded to tear lengths of material from it.

"Here," he grunted, pushing the material into her hands. "Bind them tightly."

The scout gave her a strange look as she accepted the strips of cloth wordlessly. Casually tossing his knife in the air, Tristan watched as the girl made her way over to what remained of their fire, using her teeth to hold onto the makeshift bandages as she wrapped them round her hands.

"You know," he said, in a voice just loud enough for her to hear, "if it's just the pain you're after, there are easier ways."

Aurelia sent him a curious look and had to admit the shadow of a smile she saw on his face unnerved her. The knight held her gaze, seeming to be waiting for a reaction. But Aurelia was tired of the game.

Looking away, she returned her attention to tending to her wounds. When she looked up again mere moments later, he was already gone.

---

Galahad tightened his grip around the Roman's waist as she sneezed again. Letting go of his horse's reins momentarily, he reached round to wrap his cloak tightly around the girl, holding her closer against him, ignoring the suggestive gleam in Lancelot's eye as his fellow knight rode by them.

"You need to keep yourself warm."

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly but then added in a quieter tone. "But thank you."

Galahad smiled.

"So…Aurelia…what did you do to your hands?"

There was a long pause where Galahad thought the girl would ignore him and when she finally did speak, it was hard not to note the slight defensiveness in her voice.

"What makes you think I've done anything to them?"

The curly haired knight thought better of pressing the subject, realising that he would get nothing out of her unless she was willing to share and at that moment, she was not very willing.

"All right then, let's talk about something else. Why did you run away?"

When she remained silent, Galahad ploughed on, feeling the need for answers to some of the questions that had been forming in his mind since they were first assigned this mission.

"I mean, I suppose I understand the reluctance in marrying a man you've never met. But I would think that, him being a senator, most Roman girls your age would jump at the chance of such a match."

"Why don't _you_ marry him then?" came the bitter retort.

Galahad chuckled.

"As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll have to say no."

"Well, there you go," said Aurelia as if that settled the matter.

They rode on in silence after that and for a moment, Galahad was convinced that the girl was angry with him. So it was with more than a little surprise when he heard her speak a long while later, addressing him as if there had never been a break in their conversation.

"If you had a choice in the matter, wouldn't you want to marry for the sake of love and not because you have to?"

Galahad looked down at the girl in front of him. _So that's it_, he thought.

"Some people can't afford the luxury of love."

"I suppose not," muttered the girl. She craned her neck, turning to rest her head against the knight's shoulder, and sighed a wistful sigh. "But that doesn't mean you have to stop dreaming about it."

Galahad smiled down at the Roman even though she couldn't see him. This was a side of Aurelia he had never seen and he had to admit, it made her all the more likeable; younger somehow, and for the first time he seemed to realise that she really was just barely a child still. It was easy to forget – not many people could hold their own against the Woads, not to mention their enigmatic and, in his own humble opinion, unnecessarily violent, scout; let alone other girls her own age. Galahad felt her relax back into him but as she did so, her shivering became more pronounced.

"Aurelia," he began but she cut him off.

"I'm fine, Galahad," she insisted. "It was just the wind. Caught me off guard."

The young knight felt his lips draw into a thin line, wanting to argue with her but knowing that she would be as stubborn as a mule. Her obstinacy really knew no bounds. The thought brought a reluctant grin to Galahad's features. No wonder Tristan seemed to constantly be irritated by her. They were both so hard headed that Galahad wondered if maybe their usually imperturbable scout just simply didn't know how to go about handling the girl. This thought greatly amused the knight.

"You're laughing at me," Aurelia said suddenly.

This startled Galahad.

"I can tell because you're practically shaking in silent laughter," explained the girl. "Is it so odd to think that I dream of a love match like any other girl?" she asked, amusement lacing her own voice.

"Honestly," admitted Galahad, deciding not to reveal the true source of his quiet mirth; it may not bode well for him if it were to get back Tristan. "I wouldn't have thought it of you." He laughed, out loud this time. "You're certainly not like any other girl I've ever met."

The knight could hear the smile in Aurelia's voice when she spoke next.

"I'll take that as a compliment, sir knight."

"As you should, my lady," replied Galahad with a smile of his own. It spread wider, almost into a mischievous grin when he spoke again. "So, the Lady Aurelia is secretly a romantic. Who would've thought?"

Aurelia laughed.

"Shh, don't tell anyone or I may have to kill you," she said teasingly in a mock whisper.

"And how would you go about accomplishing that?" he asked with an equally playful tone to his voice. "A poor, helpless lady such as yourself would certainly be no match against a great, and highly skilled, knight like me."

Aurelia snorted.

"O great knight," she said, forcing her voice lower so that it took on a more mystic quality to it, although Galahad could still hear the laughter behind her words. "There are other ways besides strength and steel to end a man's life. Foxglove, for example, can be very effective." And then as an afterthought, "Hellebore would do just as well."

Galahad fell silent for a moment.

"I do believe, Aurelia," he finally said after a while, "that you may be scarier than any Woad I've ever met. I suppose I should warn Tristan."

The girl laughed again.

"I don't think he would very much care. For as you said," and here she lowered her voice in a horrible imitation of Galahad's own, " 'A poor, helpless lady would certainly be no match against a great, highly skilled and pig-headed knight.'"

Galahad grinned.

"I'm beginning to understand why Lancelot derives such pleasure from your arguments with Tristan."

"Glad to be of service," said the girl and the knight was almost certain that she was smirking.

They were distracted then by a sudden raised voice from behind them.

"Well, aren't you two just getting along?" shouted Bors.

Galahad looked over his shoulder at his fellow brother at arms and realised that their laughter had attracted the attention of the other knights. Arthur and Lancelot, who were riding up front, had now turned slightly in their saddles to look back at them with matching smiles on their faces. Even Dagonet seemed to be smiling. The dark haired knight glanced around, shocking himself with the amount of relief he felt when he realised that Tristan was not amongst them.

"Care to share with us the joke?" called back Lancelot though Galahad could tell from the twinkle in his eye, discernable even from this distance, that the other knight knew fairly well the source of their amusement.

Just then a soft whimper caught his attention. Galahad felt Aurelia start to shake more violently. The frown that creased his commander's brow told him that the girl's shivers were more than slightly noticeable now. And then she started to cough.

Galahad reined his horse to a halt.

"Au – "

But the young Roman cut him off again.

"I'm fine!" she ground out. But the coughing fit that followed was not all that convincing.

"Yes, obviously," muttered Gawain but somehow Aurelia heard him for she cast him a rather black look.

"Dagonet," called Arthur as he rode up next to them, a silent order for the knight to check on the girl. Which was rather redundant Aurelia thought for the gentle giant was already by their side, a cold hand pressed against her burning forehead.

"A fever," said the knight, with a look on his face that Galahad didn't like.

Aurelia was confused. A fever? But she was freezing; a chill that touched her very bones. But Dagonet looked so grim, so serious. Well, at least a fever was curable.

"Elder," Aurelia bit out through stuttering teeth.

Dagonet nodded.

"Steeped in hot water for the fever. And maybe coltsfoot; for the cough." He turned to his commander. "We'll need a fire"

Lancelot cast his fellow knight a look.

"The Woads," he reminded them quietly but got off his horse anyway.

Arthur, having already dismounted, moved to help Aurelia out of the saddle but the girl stubbornly slipped off Galahad's horse on her own before he could. Her knees buckled slightly as her feet hit the ground but she managed to stable herself, her chin raised in defiance of her own weakness.

Lancelot chuckled.

Galahad rolled his eyes.

Arthur looked on in disapproval.

"Do you have to be so…" began Galahad, as he got of horse, faltering for words. "…you?"

"Of course," said Aurelia incorrigibly, as she made to follow Dagonet who was heading off into a denser part of the forest.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Aurelia turned in surprise; eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. Arthur was looking at her, brows raised questioningly.

"My lady," the cavalry officer added belatedly. But it was already clear; Arthur was no longer politely requesting Aurelia's cooperation in matters. The girl's eyes narrowed.

"With Dagonet. We both recognise the herbs. The sooner they're collected, the sooner they can be brewed. And the sooner Lancelot can get his pretty little self back to Hadrian's Wall and stop worrying about the Woads."

Her words managed to draw a reluctant quirk of the lips from their commander. A muffled sound came from Gawain, sounding suspiciously like a smothered laugh. Bors, on the other hand, hadn't bothered to restrain himself at all. Lancelot protested.

"Please. Arthur. I implore you. For Lancelot's sake." The girl pushed out her bottom lip in an attempt of a pout.

Arthur sighed.

Lancelot scowled.

"Take Galahad with you," relented Arthur.

"Oh, Woads we can handle," muttered the disgruntled knight. "But give us a little girl and we cave immediately. Some great warriors we are."

"The lady Aurelia is right. The sooner we gather those herbs the sooner we can continue on," said Arthur to his trusted knight and friend, feeling, for some reason, obliged to explain himself.

Aurelia spared Lancelot a satisfied smirk before following the path Dagonet had taken. In truth, her exchange with Arthur had cost her a lot of energy and she would have liked nothing better than to stay exactly where she was at the moment. But she'd finally won her way and besides, she had always found identifying herbs a calming thing and calmness was something rare in her life these days.

"What are we looking for?"

Aurelia cast an exasperated look over her shoulder.

"Coltsfoot and elder."

"Is this it?"

The girl turned around to see Galahad holding up a lobed leaf. She stared at him incredulously.

"That's ivy. And you might want to put that down. Some ivy is toxic even to the touch."

Aurelia turned back around to examine a plant just as she heard Galahad give a startled cry and, it seemed, jump away from the ivy infested tree he was standing near. The girl chuckled softly to herself.

"You know, it'd be easier if you actually _describe_ to me that plants we're looking for," came his annoyed voice.

"Well, the flowers of the coltsfoot plant resemble the dandelion but the petals are slightly more needle-like. Also, its leaves are shaped like a heart and its height is about the span of one foot."

"As for elder, it's a small tree. The leaves are poisonous but it's the flowers we're after. Its leaves are serrated – jagged," she explained before Galahad could ask. "Like teeth. And its flowers grow in large clusters. You'll like this plant." She looked up with a teasing smile on her lips. "Its berries can be brewed into a wine or brandy. Apparently it's very good."

"Are you speaking from experience?" asked the knight, brow arched questioningly.

Aurelia cast him a secretive smile but didn't answer. She was amused to note that after a while the knight had fallen silent; intently starting at every yellow flower or shrub he came across. She took the opportunity to slip away whilst he was distracted; not too far out of sight but enough to relieve the feeling of oppression she had been feeling.

Her thoughts drifted to her family as her feet took her further and further away from Galahad. She wondered how Lucius was. He did tend to do things without thinking when he was upset. But there was Furia. And Aurelia trusted her handmaid and friend to take care of her brother. As for her parents, the weeks spent in the unforgiving forests of Northern Britain had quelled the anger she had felt towards them.

_I suppose they have their reasons._

"Reasons they don't want to tell me," she snorted miserably.

The wind seemed to pick up then. She frowned as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself, clenching her teeth against the cold. _Time to head back then_. Dagonet would have no doubt gathered the necessary herbs even if she and Galahad hadn't. But as she turned around, her frown deepened. The path she had thought she was on had suddenly seemed to disappear.

"Well," she sighed. "We are in trouble, aren't we?"

A sharp cry overhead caused her to jerk her head up; something she immediately regretted. She fought against the darkness that threatened her but it was a battle she was fast losing. As her vision swayed, the last thing she saw was a tiny black speck circling above her in the sky.

---

Tristan was scowling – the Woads were keeping suspiciously quiet and he had yet to kill a single man since morning. The only good thing about the entire day was the apple he was now eating, cutting off slices with a knife that was not his own.

Turning the blade over in his hands, the knight cast an eye over the curiously carved hilt. The workmanship was rough, almost as if a hand still too small to properly hold a knife had whittled the wood. He wondered briefly if the Roman brat had carved it. The blade itself had been kept ridiculously sharp for such a paltry little thing.

Tristan growled.

How the girl had caught him off guard with it, he'd never understand. The cut itself had been shallow and was more of an annoyance than anything else. It was his pride that had suffered the most.

Just then his horse whinnied.

"Woah, girl. Woah."

Tristan dug his knees deeper into his mare's side, grabbing at the reins that had been draped carelessly across his saddle, dropping the half-eaten apple in the process. A familiar screech drew his attention to the hawk circling above him. It swooped down every so often, crying loudly as it did so, but stayed circling over the same spot. Clearly the bird was agitated.

Tristan frowned.

"Come on, girl," he said quietly to his horse, coaxing it into a gentle trot. "Let's go see what's wrong."

The knight didn't have to go far before he saw his hawk perched atop a low tree branch, feathers ruffled. It screeched again. Tristan lifted his arm in a silent invitation to which the bird gladly accepted.

"What is it, huh? What's wrong?"

At his question, the hawk took flight again, landing on the same branch it had been on before. Resigned to the fact that he would learn no more whilst on his horse, Tristan dismounted and slowly approached the tree his feathered friend seemed to have such a sudden strong interest in. It was then that he noticed the bundle underneath the tree; a bundle that looked very, very familiar. Tristan swore.

Reaching down, the knight pushed away the tangled mess of dark hair to reveal a face that he recognised immediately.

"Stupid girl," he muttered bad-temperedly. "First she goes around hitting trees and then she goes collapsing under them." As he looked around, searching for something that obviously was not there, his irritation seemed to grow. "Where's that boy when you need him?"

The hawk screeched again.

"This? This is what you wanted me to find?"

He looked down at the unconscious bundle, for once not talking back at him.

"We _could_ just leave her here," he said, more to himself than to the bird. A vicious smile formed at the thought.

This time the screech seemed almost indignant.

"All right! It was just a suggestion."

Picking her up, Tristan was not surprised to discover how light she was. No wonder she kept fainting – the silly wench – she obviously needed to eat more.

A shrill whistle was all the instruction his horse needed to follow him as he headed back in the direction he knew the rest of his comrades to be. Above him, the hawk screeched again. This time the cry sounded altogether complacent.

---

**A/N:**

**I apologise for the long wait. After we moved it was almost 2 weeks before we got the net up (telephone people stubbornly refused to believe it was their fault that the line wasn't working and it turns out that it was. Hah!)**

**(edit: GOSH! This chapter has actually been ready for ages but I wasn't able to upload it because I couldn't access my stories and stats for some reason. But the good people at fanfic net fixed it. So…YAY!)**

**7 pages (not including this ridiculously long author's note)!!! This is without a doubt the longest chapter. Nothing else to say about it really, though, as with chapter 2, there's something about it I don't quite like.**

**What I want to talk about is the last chapter. **

**Firstly, xforgottenxmemoriesx posed the question, more of a statement actually, about how Lancelot knows how Tristan and Aurelia are going to fall in love. Easy – he doesn't. All he knows is that Tristan has interacted, adverse as it may be, more with Aurelia than he has with anyone else who wasn't one of the knights. He simply says, "**_**The girl does seem to be doing our boy some good, doesn't she?**_**"**

**Secondly, peachpaige pointed out that something seemed to be off about chapter 6. I think it may be what seemed to be a sudden personality change in Aurelia. Let me explain what was going through my head when I wrote that chapter. All the other chapters up until then, Aurelia has been strong; she killed a legionnaire, jumped another, faced the fearsome Sarmatian knights without quivering and battled, verbally, against our ever-loveable scout. But remember, she is just a young Roman noblewoman, who has lived a mostly sheltered life. And adrenaline can only take you so far before you crack and have a nervous breakdown. Chapter 6 was where she reached her breaking point.**

**Lastly – and I really liked this one; made me smile – chloedancer1015's question: **_**So, is Servilius a serial killer or something?**_** -dodgey eyes- Maybe…**

**Anyways, hope this extra long chapter makes up for the long wait.**

**Thanks to all who reviewed and all my new watchers. You guys are the best!!!!1!!11!**

**- Scribbles**


	9. Chapter VIII

**A/N:**** The lovely MjAu has requested to translate this story into Russian. So for those of you who understand the language, a Russian version of 'Across The Mountains' may be out on the net somewhere, sometime soon.**

**By the way, I'm working on another story. Don't worry; it won't get posted until this one's done. I've learnt my lesson about trying to do numerous stories at once. Anyway, I was wondering if someone could give me the general dates of a regular American highschool year. I mean, when's prom? Winter break? I think there's a winter dance as well somewhere and I know the school year starts in August and Homecoming's in October but since I've never studied in an American school, I don't know much else. Any type of info will be much appreciated.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** Everything recognised from the movie, King Arthur, does not belong to me. Unfortunately. Everything and everyone else does.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter VIII**

The heady aroma of burning rosemary hung heavy in the air. A gentle breeze weaved its way through the cloves of garlic and garlands of dried mistletoe hanging from the rafters of the tiny thatched hut, creating an almost musical rustling. Clay pots and jars, ranging in size, littered the cramped abode, filled with mysterious pastes and foul smelling liquids. A pair of wild hare skins lay stretched across a wooden frame near a blackened hearth. This was the sight Aurelia woke up to.

The girl felt strangely refreshed. None of her limbs ached like she had been expecting them to and her vision remained steady when she pushed herself off the furs she had been laying in. Curious fingers trailed along the back of her head, brushing against a few dried leaves that had gotten tangled in her hair.

"It's only thyme, my dear," said a raspy voice. "To help you sleep and ward away the bad dreams. My granddaughter took the liberty of weaving it in your hair while you were sleeping. I suppose it made a nice change from playing with her dolls."

Aurelia hadn't noticed the old woman and was startled when she spoke. It was impossible to tell her exact age. Her skin resembled dried leather, brown and wrinkled, and her eyes were like two glistening obsidian specks behind her heavy brow. What little tufts of hair she had left hung limply around her shoulders; a dull, dirty grey. She was standing just inside the doorway and even the narrow entrance dwarfed her.

"Who are you?"

She hadn't meant to say that. The old woman laughed, a croaking bark that caused the young Roman to jump.

"Ah child, these days the folks around here just call me Old Mother." She hobbled over to the fireplace and jabbed at the drying skins with a thin, crooked finger. "Your friends will be happy to know you're awake. I dare say they've been fairly worried about you."

"My friends?"

"Those nice young men who brought you into the village, dear. Scared half the villagers out of their wits. Though, in my opinion, most of them lost the other half ages ago."

"They're not…"

But Aurelia trailed off. Wasn't Galahad a friend? Old Mother gave her a sly look, laughing again at the confusion etched on the girl's face.

"Aye, you're a lucky one, child. Most of the women around here would kill for the attention your companions have been showing you. At _least_ one of them has spent the night by your bedside since they brought you to me."

Aurelia frowned.

"How long have I been asleep?"

Old Mother paused, a sooty kettle she had been about to place over the fire in one hand, counting the number of days past.

"Almost seven days, if you include today. Ah, you were a stubborn one," scolded the woman, shaking a bony finger at Aurelia, but her tone was kind. "I thought the fever would never break. And then there was that cough. Near exhausted my store of flannel weed, I did…"

But Aurelia was not listening. In fact, she had stopped listening after the first sentence. Seven days? No wonder she felt well rested. It dawned on the girl then that she had once again lost consciousness. The Roman swore.

"Hmm, gentility's not as genteel as I remember it being," muttered the old woman, returning to her seemingly purposeless and menial tasks about her cluttered home.

"I'm getting up," Aurelia declared to no one in particular.

She stood and straightened her skirts, realising for the first time that someone had washed her and she was in a coarse but clean dress. Her cheeks reddened at the thought. Old Mother noticed this and looked almost apologetic.

"I'm afraid your dress was beyond repair. Apart from the skirt being too short – " Aurelia was reminded of how she had to tear it for makeshift bandages whilst she was with the Woads. " – I'm afraid silk is just not meant for traipsing off into the forest in. The dirt and mud was impossible to wash off. Pity; it was such a pretty dress underneath all that muck. A real dainty little thing."

The dark blue riding habit had been the sturdiest piece of clothing Aurelia owned. The girl looked down at herself, clothed in the borrowed frock. She knew that she was privileged to own more than one dress as most people only had the clothes on their back. They worked in it. They slept in it. And they really could not afford to lose it. She wondered, guiltily, who in the village had to go without so that she could be clothed. The old woman seemed to read her mind and gave her a reassuring smile. Though with her blackened teeth and the noticeable gaps in her smile, it was not very effective.

"It used to belong to my daughter a long, long time ago. You are a bit smaller than she was but better you wear it than have the moths make a meal of it."

The look on the woman's face had grown almost wistful. It made Aurelia feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Old Mother. I suppose I should go find my – I mean, the others now."

As Aurelia walked past the old woman towards the door, her skeletal hand suddenly shot out and grabbed hold of the girl. Her grip was startlingly strong, her appearance deceptively feeble. Ignoring Aurelia's startled gasp, Old Mother snatched up her left arm, unravelling the tight bandages around her fingers and twisted it to gain a better angle at which to peer into her palm. Aurelia cried out, more an indignant protest at being thusly handled than in pain, though the woman was holding her arm in a position that was most awkward for the girl.

"Mmm…Ah yes…Uh huh…Hmm…Hmph…Hmm…"

The young Roman tried to look over the woman's shoulder at her own hand, curious as to what Old Mother found so interesting. She turned the girl's hand this way and that, bringing it close to her eyes and then holding it far away. She pulled at Aurelia's thin fingers, still healing from her one-sided fight with the tree, and pinched the webbing between the slender first finger and thumb. Throughout the entire process, she made low indecipherable grunts and murmurs. Throughout the entire process, she ignored Aurelia's cries.

"Hmm…I see…"

"_What?_ What do you see?" despaired the girl as Old Mother twisted her arm again.

But once again the woman ignored her.

Just as suddenly as she had grabbed Aurelia's arm, Old Mother threw it down and snatched up the other. She was about to twist the girl's hand round to subject it to a similar treatment when something caught the woman's eye. Somehow; despite the fall into the lake, the Woad skirmish, and the mad dash through the British forest on the back of a devil horse; the string of black prayer beads with its tiny silver cross that Arthur had given her had survived. The bribe, for that was what Aurelia had once viewed it as, from the Lady Flavia had survived, still wound around her right wrist.

The old woman dropped her arm then, whipping around to grasp Aurelia's chin in her hand; firmly but gently. She peered into her eyes, searching hard for something. She must have found it because the frown that had formed on her face disappeared, her expression satisfied but resigned.

"Aye, you're a hard headed one, child."

Old Mother sighed. Letting go of the girl, she picked up one of the clay pots, removing from it a sprig of thyme, and threw it into the fire. Strangely, though the woman probably did not find it so, Aurelia made no move towards the door.

"It is the curse of his name, the poor boy. His mother must have been a hateful woman to damn the wretch so. No good will come of it. No good…"

The old woman stooped down to pick up a crude earthenware bowl from the hearth where it had been sitting near the fire. She moved through the hut picking up jars and placing them back down after just a glance or sniff, taking or pouring something out of a particular one at one point or another. She removed a large flower Aurelia did not recognised from the depths of one such clay jar, still surprisingly fresh, and placed it into the bowl. Coriander seeds joined it in the vessel and so did a dandelion. The young Roman watched her silently. When she had gathered all she needed, Old Mother returned to the hearth and threw the strange contents of the bowl straight into the fire. She spoke again as she did so.

"I would tell you to guard your heart but I doubt you would listen to an old crone like me. And besides, your fate and his are so intertwined that I suppose any warnings would be of no use either." She turned to Aurelia and picked up her left hand again, her movements oddly tender. "You will love him, and he you, but it will cause you both great pain for neither of you are meant to be together. At least…not in this lifetime. He is a bitter man, my dear; filled with anger and hatred. Do take care."

Aurelia slipped her hand out of the old woman's grip, the look on her face confused and angry.

"What are you? A witch?"

Old Mother laughed. Though to the young girl it seemed more like a cackle.

"Not a witch, child. Just a crazy old woman, I suppose. But I've rambled on enough. Your friends are waiting for you outside."

She made to turn her back on Aurelia but the girl stopped her.

"Wait! Who were you speaking of? The man…"

The old woman smiled sympathetically at her.

"You already know, my dear."

And she left it at that, turning back to the fire. Aurelia was tempted to try to force more answers out of her but knew that the woman would say no more. With her thoughts weighted, Aurelia walked out of Old Mother's messy home.

Alone, the old woman stared into the fire, seeming to see something there that no one else could, dancing amongst the flames. Her eyes were distant, her expression almost ethereal. But it was marred by a heavy sadness that permeated from her very being.

"The Fates have been cruel to condemn you both so, child. This will not end well. Not at all…"

---

Outside, Aurelia took in her surroundings; the shabby wooden shanties, the ragged looking villagers with wicker baskets of winter fruits or bundles of sticks for the evening's fire tied to their backs; and knew that she was is no Roman village. These people were Britons. Some maybe even Blue Ghosts. But she saw no anger on their faces – no hostility – just open curiosity; what were Romans and Sarmatian knights doing out here? She would like to know the answer to that question as well.

"Aurelia!"

The girl had expected to see Galahad walking towards her and was surprised when she realised that it was Gawain instead. More surprisingly was that he looked happy to see her.

"You look better." His smile was wide and cordial.

"I feel better," she replied, attempting a smile, though she didn't think she quite succeeded. "Where are we? This looks like a Briton village."

"It is." His smile remained unwavering. In fact, if at all possible, it seemed to grow wider.

"Oh." She caught the eye of a few villagers that walked past and saw the same curious looks on their faces. "How is it we're still alive?"

Gawain laughed; a sincere rumbling laugh that came straight from his gut.

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you are. I admit, with the way we came tearing into the village like madmen, scaring the villagers half to death, I expected them to come at us with pitchforks instead. But then that old hag stepped in and agreed to take care of you and that settled it for the villagers. Besides, we really did need their help." His expression turned serious then. "Your condition was rather dire; far beyond Dag's knowledge of healing."

Aurelia frowned.

"How bad was I?"

"You were asleep for seven days," he said simply.

"Oh. Right."

The knight smiled, a corner of his lips twitched teasingly, thought it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

That simple question seemed to break a worrying tension the girl had not even realised she'd been feeling. Aurelia smiled back, a true smile then, realising how strangely she was behaving. She tried to brush aside the words of Old Mother. After all, she herself had admitted to being a rambling crone.

"Come," said Gawain walking towards the outer boundaries of the village. "Tristan will be glad to see you."

Aurelia stopped in her tracks.

"Tristan?" she asked incredulously. "Why?"

Gawain grinned in clear amusement.

"The old woman's been making him and Galahad perform the most ridiculous tasks. Yesterday she made him catch crickets. And it was collecting mistletoe the day before."

"But she already has a large store of that."

"Exactly."

Gawain's expression could only be described as devilishly impish. Aurelia almost felt sorry for the scout. Almost.

"Miss Lady! Miss Lady!"

Sarmatian and Roman both turned to find a small girl running towards them, a woman who looked as if she were her mother chasing after her. The girl came to a stop in front of Aurelia, hugging her straw doll close to her chest. She looked up at the Roman with large blue eyes staring out of a dirty pale face that was framed by dark scraggly locks.

"Miss Lady!" She tugged incessantly at Aurelia's skirts. Despite being short in stature, she still towered over the child. "Miss Lady! Old Mother said you're all better now so can you play with me?"

Aurelia stared at the child. The young Briton girl returned her look, eyes wide and expectant, chewing on the head of her doll.

"I…uh…"

The woman had finally caught up with the child, panting heavily as she stopped in front of them.

"How can a child so small run so fast – Seirian! You're supposed to be helping me prepare dinner. I'm sorry, my lady. She won't disturb you again. Seirian! Come!"

"It's really – "

"But I want to play with the lady!" the child cried, removing her doll from her mouth and cutting Aurelia off. "Old Mother said once she got better I could. And she's better!"

The girl pouted.

"Seiri – "

"I really don't mind."

Three heads swivelled to face her, one looking curious, another incredulous and the third ecstatic.

"My lady, it really isn't necessary. Besides, we're supposed to be preparing the evening meal."

"Oh, I'll help then. With dinner I mean."

"But I want to play. I was going to show you where the dog hid her puppies."

The child jutted out her lip even further. Aurelia smiled and bent down so that she was at eye-level with the young girl.

"How about we make dinner first and then I'll play with you. It is getting darker after all and I'm sure you'll be hungry soon."

The girl seemed to think long and hard about Aurelia's suggestion.

"All right, then," she finally said.

The girl then grabbed the young Roman's hand and started to pull her back towards the village square and toward one of the small wooden huts. Caught off guard, Aurelia stumbled after the girl, tripping over her skirts and her own feet. The Briton woman gave Gawain an apologetic look before taking off after the girls.

"Seirian! Wait! Don't run so fast! Seirian!"

Gawain chuckled to himself. Continuing in the same direction he had been leading Aurelia towards, he made his way to the area where the knights had set up camp. Arthur would want to know that the girl was finally awake.

---

When Tristan had first found the Briton village he had thought it fortunate that its inhabitants were slightly Romanized. At least they spoke some Latin. But now, staring at the murky depths of what could only be described as drain water pretending to be a stream, he was beginning to wish he had just left the Roman in the forest.

Leeches.

The hag had asked for leeches this time.

Oh, he had no doubt that he would find more than enough of them to satisfy the witch crawling in the ditch water. But the problem was getting them _out_ of the water. The knight wasn't quite willing to risk limb or loss of blood to get at them. He did not mind climbing trees to gather mistletoe. He could even tolerate waiting patiently on the forest floor to catch the elusive crickets. But this really had gone too far. _Leeches!_

Looking at the clay jar he held in his hand, his eyes narrowed. Well, he had to draw the line somewhere. Letting the jar roll off his fingertips, heedless as to where it fell though he noted a satisfyingly loud shattering sound, he turned to walk back towards the village. He had barely taken three steps when he heard a voice. A familiar, grating, _old_ voice.

"And where are my leeches, boy?"

Tristan barely held back a vicious curse.

"Couldn't find them."

"Didn't even try to, huh?"

The scout turned around; face expressionless but eyes glinting in annoyance. How had she snuck up on him? The old crone was seated on an overly large boulder situated between the buttresses of an equally massive tree, looking as hideous as ever.

"Well, boy?"

"Lost the jar."

"Hmm."

They stayed like that for a long while, each staring at the other and neither giving anything away. Just as the thought of killing the ancient she-devil – after all, it was easy enough to hide a dead body in the dense underbrush of the British forests – passed through his mind, the hag broke the silence with words he had not expected.

"Aye, you're both a couple of hard headed fools, you are."

"What are you blabbering on about?"

Old Mother pushed herself out of her seat with an almost inaudible groan, hobbling over to the scout with the aid of a gnarled walking stick, about as crooked as its owner was.

"Give me your hand, boy. The left one."

Tristan would have liked to say he stood his ground; that he outright refused to humour the old witch. After all, he had faced down foes three times her size on the battlefield with nary a shiver of fear. He would have liked to say that he knocked her over the head with the flat side of his sword and rolled her cooling corpse into the very ditch she had tried to get him to extract leeches from. He would have even liked to say that he simply walked away, unperturbed. But the knight found himself taking steps back, small as they were, as the old woman advanced on him. And then all of a sudden she was right in front of him, peering intently into his left palm, as if its dirt creased lines and wrinkles held the secrets of life.

"Hmmm…"

He did not like the sound of that 'hmmm'. Snatching his hand back, Tristan glared at the old witch, unconsciously rubbing his clammy palm against his tunic. The hag cackled.

"Aye," she crowed, "No doubt about it. Cursed." She spat over her shoulder and crossed herself but never did her smile fade.

Tristan couldn't help the roll of his eyes at the crone's dramatic antics.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, boy! Do you know what you are?" Old Mother did not wait for what would have been a sarcastic reply from the knight. "You are selfish. Selfish and bitter; that's what you are." She punctuated each word with a hard jab at his chest with a twig-thin finger.

With his patience fast wearing out, Tristan made to grab at the witch's skinny arm but somehow she managed to evade him. There was something about her that he did not quite like. There was something wrong – unnatural – about the geriatric cow. She made the Roman brat seem almost like an angel.

"Now you listen, boy. That girl will be the best thing that has ever happened to you. But if you even have one drop of caring in your bones you will let her go. Break her heart. Let her live."

Tristan frowned.

"What?"

The hag stared obdurately into his eyes. Tristan was ashamed to realise that he could feel his knee shaking. There was definitely something not right about the woman.

"It is your curse to bear, boy. But if you let her go now, maybe the girl will have a chance."

Tristan growled. He did not like not understanding things. Confusion was a state of mind he was unfamiliar with and he would very much like it to stay that way. His hand had crept up to a blade by his side and he could feel his fingers tightening around its hilt. Old Mother must have noticed this as well as she took a cautious step back. Tristan suddenly found himself breathing a little easier. The old crone shook her head, sadly it seemed.

"Ah, it's not use reasoning with you. Selfish, that's what you are."

She turned away from him and started to make her way back to the village.

"I still need those leeches, boy."

The scout did not know what possessed him to do it but on an impulse he bent to pick up a large rock and threw it at the hag's retreating back. It was a childish act he would normally never stoop to. But somehow he missed. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she wasn't there anymore. She had disappeared. Yes, the crone was just _unnatural_.

Tristan took in a deep breath and let it out violently. Recollecting himself and scavenging what was left of his dignity, the knight turned his attention back to the leech infested water and just barely restrained himself from jumping back. There by the banks of the polluted stream, sat the clay jar, upright and intact with not even one chip on its rim or crack along its body.

"Witch…" he breathed out shakily, thankful that there was no one around to bear witness to his uncharacteristically nervous behaviour.

Staring at the jar, Tristan eventually gave a resigned sigh. Settling back on his haunches, the scout finally set about collecting the bloody leeches.

---

**A/N: It's done!!!!! Actually I'm glad this wasn't ready for Valentine's as it's a rather un-Valentine's day update. No romance at all. In fact, it's foreboding and anti-romantic. Sorta.**

**I'm ashamed to admit it but I kind of teared up when writing the ending of the first section of this chapter. I'm hoping that I'm not the only one though. Oh, and please don't throw sporks or shoes at me. I always knew how this story was going to end and this chapter hints at that.**

**I also apologise for the slight OOC-ness of Tristan in this chapter. I couldn't help myself. In my mind, even he couldn't stand up against the Old Mother.**

**I just realised this but I don't think I ever gave the meanings of the Woads' names. And because I feel like sharing useless information, I'm going to give their meanings here.**

**Alun: Harmony, or the cheerful handsome one (intentionally ironic if you remember how Alun's behaviour in this story was)**

**Gwendolen: A white ring or bow (I realised that I spelt it Gwendolyn in one chapter but I really am too lazy to correct it. This is the correct spelling)**

**Mair: Bitter, as in a bitterly wanted child. Also – The star of the sea (Poor woman, eh?)**

**Seirian: Sparkling**

**The herbs that Old Mother keeps burning are meant for protection, courage, and happiness. Incredulous as it may be, an episode of Martha Stewart actually inspired the whole rosemary burning thing and then everything else built up from there.**

**I want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **_Soccer-Bitch__Greendoggie__Z_**, and **_stormflora_**. And much thanks to everyone who fav-ed this story or put it on alert. I hope you don't hate this chapter too much -cowers behind couch-**

**The next one will once again take a while to come out. I'm hoping it won't be more than a month but I can't guarantee it as I'm preparing for several exams and a Very Important audition for an arts school.**

**- Scribbles**


	10. Chapter IX

**A/N:**** Done with my ballet and music theory exam. Just kinda sad because I don't think I did as well in music theory as the last time. Now all that's left is my school audition and my musical theatre exam. Wee…**

**I think you guys might like this chapter -insert smug smile here- So how about we try to get it up to 70 reviews. Aw heck! Let's make it 80!**

**Oh! And I just saw 10,000BC with me bestie and SPOILER!SPOILER!SPOILER!There'sacharactercalledOldMotherinittooSPOILER!SPOILER!SPOILER! Fancy that, eh?**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing that is recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur. I do, however, own Aurelia and everything else not from the movie.**

**Across The Mountain**

**Chapter IX**

A cloaked figure weaved its way through the city by Hadrian's Wall, casting furtive glances over its shoulder every few feet. A sudden burst of drunken laughter seemed to startle the figure, but it straightened its back, held its head aloof and walked resolutely through a group of Roman legionnaires stumbling out of a tavern.

"Where're you going in such a hurry, pretty miss?" cried a soldier, grabbing the figure's arm. "Stay a while."

The cloaked woman snatched her arm out of the soldier's grip, holding her back ramrod straight and made an extra effort to force more bite into her words.

"If you value your life, soldier, you would do well not to offend one of the house of Aurelius."

That shut them up.

"My apologies, my lady," grovelled the man, no longer cocky and suddenly much more sober.

The woman attempted a delicate sniff and brushed off flecks of invisible dirt off the sleeve the soldier had dared to touch. Tilting her head back, she cast what she hoped was an arrogant glare down her nose. More grovelling on the part of the offending soldier ensued. Keeping her eyes hooded and with a parting smirk, she sauntered away, the drunken legionnaires parting like the Red Sea.

It was only once she had rounded a corner and the soldiers were no longer in sight did she breathe in relief. She hadn't meant to lie. And well, technically, it wasn't a lie; she did live under the roof and protection of Commander Quintus Aurelius. She just wasn't a member of his family like she had implied. With one last calming breath, she set out again to her original destination – a quiet street behind a small but well-known brothel.

He was already there, pacing about nervously. His head shot up as she entered the street.

"Furia?" His voice cracked as he spoke.

"Cicero?"

She knew that was not his real name but it was not a matter she could be bothered to press. It was the information he had that interested her more. The man looked confused for a moment and then nodded distractedly.

"Could you…" he gestured at the hood of her cloak. "I'd like to see whom I'm talking to. Make sure you're whom you say you are, you know."

Furia pulled back her hood.

"You said you had some information for me. Something regarding your master that I should know about."

Cicero looked about uneasily, scanning the alley for any unwanted eavesdroppers. The brothel's back door flew open, making the man jump at the sound, and an amorous couple tumbled out, a tangle of bare limbs. A giddy titter reached their ears before the whore and her customer slunk away in search of a more private corner to go about their business. He was wringing his hands when he finally turned back to the woman.

"You are a Briton, are you not?"

Furia frowned.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"They say you have a magician amongst your people. The one they call Merlin."

Furia's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"If this is a test to see where my loyalties lie, you're wasting your time – "

"No!" cried the man before she could take even one step away from him. "I just wanted – I thought if I'd – So you'd understand – "

"Out with it, man!"

It took another skittish survey of the dark street and a deep, rasping breath before he would broach the subject that so obviously frightened him.

"What do you know," he asked hesitantly, "about black magic?"

---

Aurelia watched as Seirian's mother tipped the large brown beans her young daughter had shelled, and the meat she had begrudgingly let the Roman slice, into the bubbling pot over the fire. Aurelia noted with some curiosity that there was more stew being prepare than a small family of only two could possibly consume in a week.

"Could you pass me that jar over there?" asked the woman as she stirred the pot, careful not to let anything burn.

"Do you mean this one?" asked the girl reaching out with her left hand for a jar on a shelf above her.

Aurelia felt a sharp pain as her fingers curled around the clay vessel. She yelped and reached out with her right hand to steady the jar but it still slipped out of her grasp and shattered on the hard earthen floor. At the sound, the young Briton mother dropped the wooden ladle she had been holding. Little Seirian flew through the door, shock and fear evident on her face.

"I'm so sorry!" Aurelia cried. But the woman ignored her.

"Does it hurt? Your fingers? Seirian told me some of them were broken when they brought you in."

Aurelia looked down at her hand. The pain had been sudden and had not been there before. Seirian's mother reached for the injured hand, gently feeling her fingers. Aurelia hissed at the slight pressure. The woman nodded to herself.

"The potion's wearing off. Seirian! Go to your grandmother and get another draft."

The girl left just as suddenly as she had appeared.

"Potion?"

"To numb the pain," explained the Briton as she picked up the dirty ladle. Rubbing it down with a handful of ash and tipping some water from a bucket onto the utensil, she gave it a few flicks before putting it back into the soup pot. "It's also supposed to help you regain your strength and quicken the healing process. How else do you think you've managed to go out and about after being so ill for seven days?"

Aurelia had wondered about that.

Just then, young Seirian returned, a wooden cup held carefully in both hands. She took little steps, cautious not to move to fast so as not to spill a drop of the mysterious medicine. Her mother relieved her of her burden and the girl smiled with pride at a job well done.

"Here. Drink this. I know it tastes foul but it helps."

Aurelia quelled her urge to gag as the murky liquid was poured down her throat. The grimace on her face soon turned into a look of surprise though as she realised just how fast the draft was taking effect. The pain had ebbed and she felt nothing as she flexed the fingers of her left hand.

"You want to be careful with that," warned Seirian's mother with the wooden cup still in hand. "Your fingers are still healing and could easily be damaged again."

Little Seirian had been standing just inside the doorway all the while, her blue eyes wide with wonder and the head of her straw doll that hadn't left her side since she first ran up to the Roman wedged tightly in her mouth. Now that she was sure Aurelia was better though, she pulled the doll out of her mouth with a slobbery slurp and grinned.

"Old Mother said you need to take it easy." She wrinkled her nose and then looked up at the Roman hopefully. "Can Miss Lady play with me now?"

Aurelia smiled down at the girl.

"My name's Aurelia. And if your mother says it's all right, I suppose we can play."

"Ahrelia?"

The Roman laughed.

"No. AU-relia."

"Ohrelia?"

Seirian smiled expectantly. Aurelia sighed, but with an amused smile on her face.

"How about you just call me Relia instead?"

The young Briton beamed.

"Relia! Let's go play now! And we can go see the puppies!"

Aurelia cast the girl's mother an enquiring glance. With an exaggerated sigh, she waved the pair away but reminded them to return in half an hour's time for dinner. An excited squeal burst past Seirian's lips and she proceeded to physically drag Aurelia out the door. A few minutes later found the girls huddled beside a lean-to that housed all the crops and goods shared by the village. Soft whines were heard coming from a small gap between the wooden posts that made up the supporting wall. Aurelia cooed as a wet nose peaked out from the shadowed depths of the shack.

"She keeps moving them around the village. But I always find them again," glowed the little girl. She then stuck her straw doll into the gap. As Aurelia was about to ask Seirian what she was up to, the young Briton withdrew her arm, and as her doll re-emerged it was followed by a curious furry head. The girl pounced on the puppy before it could decide to retreat back into the safety of the lean-to.

"Here."

Aurelia carefully took the puppy Seirian held out to her and cradled it in her arms. She couldn't help the silly grin that spread across her face as the little bundle of fur nuzzled into her chest.

"They were at Old Mother's a few days ago but she didn't like them. They ate all her slugs."

The girl pouted.

Aurelia laughed.

"What does Old Mother use the slugs for?"

Young Seirian shrugged.

"For her potions, I suppose. Mum says it's just the herbs. But I think it's magic." Her eyes seemed to glow at the thought. "Don't worry though; she didn't use any slugs in your potion. I saw her make it. No slugs at all."

Aurelia frowned; puzzled.

"I thought you got that draft from your grandmother."

The young Briton looked just as puzzled about Aurelia's confusion.

"I did."

"Oh."

The Roman brushed aside this revelation for further contemplation at a later time and giggled as the puppy in her arms licked her nose. Little Seirian had lured another puppy out of the lean-to and the girls soon lost track of time.

"Seirian! Seirian! Where are you, girl?"

The young girl's head perked up at the sound of her mother's voice. She seemed upset about having to go back so soon but she bundled the puppy she had been teasing with her doll back through the gap in the lean-to and got up, brushing herself off. Her mother thrust a wooden bowl filled to the brim with the steaming stew as soon as the pair walked through the door.

"Be a good girl and take this to your grandmother, Seirian. Aurelia, could you help me with this?"

Whilst little Seirian set about her task, once again taking tiny steps so as not to spill the hot stew over her hands, Aurelia and her mother worked a thick wooden rod through the handle of the soup pot.

"Careful now," warned the Briton.

Aurelia noted how the woman seemed to watch her left hand and realised that she hadn't curled her fingers completely around the wood. The young Roman tightened the grip of her right hand to make up for the unsteadiness of her left.

"Careful," Seirian's mother repeated.

Between the two, they carried the heavy pot out the door and made their way towards the outskirts of the village. It did not take long for Aurelia to realise they were heading in the same direction that Gawain had been leading her in earlier. They soon came upon the camp that the Sarmatian knights had set up and placed the pot over their fire without bothering to ask permission. Bors appeared by their side as soon as the pot was down, inhaling deeply and practically salivating.

"Hmmm…Smells good. You really are spoiling us, miss."

The Briton swatted his hand away as Bors attempted to dip a finger into the stew.

"Bowls," she ordered.

Aurelia watched in amusement as Seirian's mother whipped the knights into line with just a single word.

"The way to a man's heart," whispered the woman knowingly with a secret smile on her lips.

Aurelia laughed. The girl was surprised when a bowl was placed into her hands and gave Seirian's mother a curious look.

"Eat," the Briton ordered.

Young Seirian herself came skipping into the camp then, a sprig of mistletoe tucked behind her ear. Aurelia soon realised that meals with the knights must have become a regular occurrence since their arrival in the village as the young girl settled herself quite comfortably by Dagonet's side, a steaming bowl balanced precariously on her knees. The giant of a man even smiled affectionately down at her.

Once she was sure everyone had been served, Seirian's mother brought her own dinner to where Aurelia was seated beside her daughter.

"Do you cook for this lot everyday?" asked the Roman, blowing on her stew.

"They're our guest," said the Briton simply, but with a tired and unassuming smile.

The meal passed amiably with Bors telling the odd rowdy joke and Seirian's mother frowning in disapproval. Aurelia was half way through her stew when she remembered something.

"It seems I owe you thanks," she said, turning to the young Briton mother. "For the dress."

The woman quirked a brow.

"It's not mine."

Aurelia frowned.

"Old Mother said it belonged to her daughter. And Seirian said she was her grandmother. So naturally…"

The Briton laughed.

"I call the old crone grandmother too." She smiled at the look of confusion on Aurelia's face. "We _are_ related. But no one really knows how old she is. I suppose she's my great-great-great-great…great grandmother. There might be another great in there. I'm not too sure."

"Oh." Aurelia sneaked a look out of the corner of her eyes at the Briton. "So is she a witch then?"

The young woman smiled.

"Some people think so." Her brows furrowed slightly. "Seirian thinks so. But I know it's all just a good understanding of herbs. Other people who might not know of certain plant's properties in medicine think that it's witchcraft. Other people really should know better."

A sharp snap of a twig drew everyone's attention then. Aurelia was surprised to see Tristan shuffle into the camp. For the first time since she'd known the knight, the man actually looked _tired_. The girl was sure that the fact that he was no longer moving silently through a forest that he usually seemed at one with was a sign of something being not quite right. He scooped himself a portion of the stew into a bowl Galahad had handed him and then dragged himself to a quiet corner.

"It seems Old Mother's been at work again," muttered Seirian's mother, but Aurelia caught the slight smirk on her lips. "Here, child." She had ladled another spoonful of stew into Aurelia's bowl. "You really do need to eat more."

---

They stayed in the village for another three days before Old Mother deemed Aurelia well enough for the journey back to Hadrian's Wall. Whilst there, the young Roman's time was spent mostly with Old Mother or with little Seirian and her mother. Every night they would cook dinner for the knights and every morning they would bring them buckets of fresh water and old bread left over from the day before. Old Mother expanded Aurelia's knowledge of herbs whilst Seirian's mother taught her how to skin rabbits or pluck the fowl they'd trapped and prepare meals with the fresh meat, all of which Aurelia was more than eager to learn.

The knights seemed not to mind the delay, even going so far as to help where they could in the village. Arthur had developed a sort of friendship with the village elder and they would pass many an hour debating religion. Gawain and Bors had strangely found themselves quite endeared to the village children, and their afternoons were often spent looking after the snot-nosed, mud caked ragamuffins. Of course, their mothers were usually within shouting distance, not quite trusting the Sarmatians completely. Lancelot and Galahad, when not on some errand for Old Mother, seemed to constantly have a gaggle of blushing young girls around them. And Dagonet was getting along quite splendidly with young Seirian and her mother. And Old Mother had even deemed him worthy enough that she was willing to trade some of her medicinal secrets with. The only knight who was suspiciously absent from the daily village activities was, unsurprisingly, their taciturn scout.

The only time Aurelia saw Tristan during those three days was during the evening meal. And each night he would seem just as dishevelled and tired as on that day she first woke up in the village. She knew this had something to do with the absurd tasks Old Mother set him every day and the Roman was beginning to feel quite sorry for him.

The knight was just so…not himself.

Aurelia supposed she should have felt quite glad actually. But she didn't and could not really explain why.

It was during their last evening in the village, the day the visitor arrived, that Aurelia managed to talk with the scout at all.

She had been sitting with her young Briton shadow just outside the girl's home. The fingers of her left hand had healed enough in her opinion for her to attempt the tricky chore of shelling beans. Aurelia knew that her fingers were healing ridiculously faster than normal but chose not to question it. Why puzzle over such good fortune? Just accept it, she thought.

It was the scowl that appeared suddenly across young Seirian's face that alerted Aurelia of the new presence in the village.

The man was barely clad and the blue paint left no doubt as to his identity. Aurelia was surprised that he had yet to be set upon by the knights but strangely, or fortunately, enough, they were nowhere in sight. The girls watched as he strode swiftly and confidently through the village and disappeared inside Old Mother's hut.

Little Seirian snorted.

"You don't like him much, do you?" asked Aurelia as she picked up another bean.

"He's one of Merlin's men. They always bring bad news," sniffed the young girl, who was so adept at shelling beans that she could keep her eyes trained on the Woad and still managed to get through more pods than Aurelia did. "The last time one of them came, they took my father away."

Aurelia felt a sliver of guilt as she contemplated the connotations of the girl's words. In all likelihood, they could have very well recruited Seirian's father for a Woad raid. And if so, then one of her knightly companions – maybe Galahad or even Dagonet – could have been the one to end the man's life. An uncomfortable silence descended over them; more so on the Roman's part than on little Seirian's as she did not seem to notice anything amiss nor did her lack of speech appear hostile. Aurelia managed to get through another handful of beans before it became unbearable and she spoke the first words that came to mind.

"What's he doing at Old Mother's?"

"I don't really care," young Seirian declared. "I hope she poisons him."

"Seirian – "

"Girl!"

Two dark heads shot up; grey eyes wide and surprised, blue ones narrowed and suspicious. Old Mother was hobbling towards the pair. It was only once young Seirian had ascertained that her great-great-great-great-great…great grandmother was alone did she crack a welcome smile.

"Girl! Put those down! What are you trying to do? Your fingers aren't properly healed yet!"

Aurelia dropped the beans she had been holding immediately and folded her hands in her lap. Her young Briton companion smiled in amusement. Old Mother looked irritated. Whatever the Woad had to tell her obviously hadn't been good.

"I need you to go look for your friend for me, child. The annoying one."

Aurelia smiled at that.

"Do you mean Tristan?"

Old Mother waved her hand distractedly.

"You know who I mean. He's supposed to be bringing me a boar."

"Where is he?"

"Oh! How should I know? Over…there somewhere," said Old Mother with more ambiguous waving of her hand in a direction east of the village. "Tell that boy I need that boar _now_!"

And with that, Old Mother hobbled back to her hut.

"She doesn't seem too happy."

Young Seirian sniffed as she picked up another bean.

"See? Merlin and his men _always_ bring bad news."

---

Aurelia was sure she had been walking around in circles. Frustrated, she drew back her leg and kicked a nearby tree with an agitated huff.

Just then, a rustling of leaves caught her attention. To her right, a gorse bush seemed to be shivering. 

Aurelia frowned. That couldn't be right.

A horrifying squeal was all the warning the Roman had before a wild boar came bursting through the bush. It had been wounded as evidenced by the two arrow shafts sticking out of its back, one broken and the other still whole, and naturally was not very happy. Blood bubbled from its mouth and together with the pain induced gleam in its eyes, the animal looked like a creature straight out of hell itself.

Aurelia froze.

Unfortunately, the boar had been charging straight towards her.

_Dominus pascit me, et nihil mihi deerit…The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want._

The girl reached for the prayer beads wound around her wrist and the words came unbidden to her.

…_in pascuis virentibus me collocavit…_

The wild boar roared. Its tusks shone forebodingly in the fading evening light, promising a messy and painful death.

…_super aquas quietis eduxit me…_

A sharp twang sounded in the trees and another arrow embedded itself in the animal's back. With one last howl of pain, the boar veered slightly, just narrowly missing Aurelia, and its legs gave way under it. The young Roman stared uncomprehendingly at the prone creature.

Somewhere above her, a hawk screeched.

With nary a sound, Tristan jumped down from the tree she had been standing under, bow in hand, and nonchalantly approached the twitching body of the boar. Notching another arrow, he let it loose, lodging it firmly between the animal's eyes. The scout nudged it with the toe of his boot, '_hmphed_', and only then did he look up at Aurelia.

"Why didn't you move out of the way?"

That broke whatever spell the girl's fear had weaved around her. She felt her cheeks colour.

"Couldn't." A thought occurred to Aurelia then. "How did you know the boar would miss me?"

The scout gave her an unreadable look.

"I didn't."

Aurelia stared at the man in disbelief.

"You aimed for its back and not its head even though you knew the animal might still end up killing me?"

"It didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"Kill you."

The Roman's eyes narrowed.

"That's not that point."

Another high-pitched screech heralded the arrival of a familiar hunting bird. Alighting on Tristan's proffered arm, it ruffled its feathers self-importantly and bestowed upon Aurelia a beady look. It was enough to distract the girl.

"Is it yours?"

Tristan, whom had been stroking the bird's smooth feathers tenderly, threw her a withering look.

"She," was all he said.

"Is _she_ yours?" Aurelia amended. "What's her name?"

Tristan huffed.

"Doesn't need one. She's not _mine_. She comes and goes as she pleases."

Aurelia watched, entranced, as the knight seemed to jerk his arm and the hawk once again took to the skies, the girl's eyes following the feathered creature.

"You should call her Aquila."

Tristan lifted a brow, looking as close to incredulous as Aurelia had ever seen the knight.

"She's a hawk."

Aurelia had been staring at the bird now circling above them and brought her head down, giving Tristan a strange look.

"It's pretty obvious."

Sparing her one last impassive glance, the scout drew a large knife from the sheath strapped to his side and seemed to ignore Aurelia after that, returning to the task he had been sent into the forest for. But the Roman was not to be ignored.

"I hear Arthur plans to make for Hadrian's Wall tomorrow," she said, settling down on a large, mossy tree root but keeping her eyes trained on the knife in Tristan's hand. "So I suppose you'll be back home in about two days."

The knight snorted.

"It's not home."

"Right. I suppose not," Aurelia admitted after a while. She leaned back on her hands, tilting her head to catch the light from the rising moon though she did not look away from the scout as he proceeded to carve the boar's tusks out of its mouth. "What's it like? The land you come from. Your home."

With a dull thump, Tristan buried the blade in the animal's neck with enough force that Aurelia would almost have supposed that the man were angry if it weren't for the fact that his expression had remained completely stoic, though a little tired looking. He lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"Don't you have something better to do? Collect some herbs? Skin a cat? Stand over a smoking cauldron with that old witch?"

"She did send me to look for you actually," said Aurelia with a tiny smile. This was only the second time she had heard him say so much. "Seems she urgently needs that boar."

"She urgently needs a knife between the ribs," the knight muttered to himself. Removing a small coarse woven bag from inside his tunic, Tristan dropped the two tusks he'd removed into it and secured it at his side, next to the knife's simple leather sheath. The animal's blood was already seeping through and staining the bag a dark brown.

"Do you have to be this disagreeable?" the girl sighed.

"Do you have to be this irritating?"

Aurelia grinned smugly.

"Only with you." She pushed herself up. "Come on then. I suppose we should be getting back."

Tristan grunted, cleaning his knife with a handful of leaves before returning it to its sheath. Grabbing one of the boar's back legs he proceeded to drag it back towards the village. Aurelia quickly fell in step with him.

"You still haven't told me what Sarmatia's like."

"Don't remember it."

"Surely you must remember something. Your village? Your family?"

Tristan remained silent. Eventually Aurelia began to think he was ignoring her again but then – 

"Green."

"Green?"

"I remember the seas of grass. And the horses."

Aurelia's smile was almost wistful.

"Sounds pretty."

The scout seemed to choke.

"Pretty?"

Aurelia laughed merrily.

"Not a word you'd use?"

The look on Tristan's face could almost be described as a scowl. Aurelia laughed again.

"I'm glad to have provided you with such amusement, my lady," growled the scout, the appellation of her noble birth sounding more like a curse than anything polite.

The Roman frowned. Even an idiot could tell that Tristan was anything but glad. And even an idiot would have known better than to provoke a man armed with a knife that he'd already proven he knew how to use well. Perhaps it was unfortunate then that the girl did not consider herself an idiot.

"Why do you take such offence at every single thing I do? Most people would find you an odious grouch. I was just trying to be friendly." She came to a sudden stop; a startling thought having dawned on her. Tristan seemed not to notice and continued on his trek, hardly hindered by the heavy load he was dragging behind him. "You hate me. Because I'm a Roman," she threw at his retreating back.

She picked up her skirts and caught up with the knight who had not even paused in his stride and seemed unfazed by her accusation. She took this as an affirmation of her suspicions and for some reason it stirred up something deep within her that she couldn't explain.

"You with your claims of unjust slavery in a land you so obviously loathe," she hissed, her face an ugly contortion of anger. "You are nothing better than a prejudicial blackguard! With your head constantly up your arse and that same arse on top your mighty high horse! You are hardly better than the _Romans_ you despise! Those who believe it is their God given right to take whatever they want as anyone else not 'Roman' are naturally nothing more than 'uncivilised heathens'!"

Aurelia suddenly found herself with her back pressed against a tree, struggling to breathe with the hand clamped around her neck. She hadn't even seen him move.

"Yes, I dislike you. Immensely," snarled the scout, his face almost touching hers. "Because you're nothing but a pampered Roman brat. Spoilt and rotten to the bone."

Despite her lack of air, or maybe it was because of it, Aurelia found it in herself to shoot him a triumphant smirk.

"I don't hear you denying my claim."

She barely prevented herself from biting down on her tongue when Tristan slammed her head back into the tree. Spots danced in front of her eyes but strangely the one thing that the young Roman seemed most aware of was how close the scout was. So close that she could feel his breath flit across her face. He had some rather interesting tattoos, some part of her noted.

"No, I don't deny that you are an utterly detestable Roman."

Aurelia shot him the dirtiest scowl she could muster. Tristan's grip around her throat tightened just a little bit more.

"Roman I may be." Somehow her voice came out strong though a little raspy. "But I am neither spoilt nor rotten. Nor detestable," she added as an afterthought. "An accident of birth does not make you more worthy of the life you live. It does not give you the right to judge me because I was born into a family of privilege. A family who loves me." Aurelia knew she was taking things too far but she no longer cared.

She should have taken the second knock of her head against the tree as a warning. Tristan's eyes glinted dangerously.

"A family who loves you so much they were willing to sell you to a married man?"

Aurelia clawed her nails along the knight's arm. She kicked his shins as hard as she could. And as her struggles escalated and she started screaming profanities at him, Tristan seemed to grow calmer, his face once again returning to his expressionless mask.

"At least _my_ family loves me enough not sell my soul in exchange for a few miserable years of life in servitude," she finally spat, chest heaving.

The girl flung out her arms to break her fall when the scout threw her away from him. She scrambled up immediately but he was already walking away from her, the boar's carcass trailing behind him leaving in its wake broken branches and blood.

"Don't you walk away from me, damn you! Don't – Fine! Leave! Only a coward would walk away from a fight! You're a coward! Contemptible! I hate you!" Something had snapped inside her as she saw the forest swallowing the knight, leaving her behind. "You're a dishonourable villain!" She thought she saw his shoulders stiffen at that but he kept on walking. "A bastard who has to resort to violence when things do not go his way! I hate you! I hate you, Tristan!"

She hadn't meant to say his name. But it was too late now. Saying it had given life to that something inside her and she couldn't help herself.

"I hate you, Tristan!"

"I _hate_ you, Tristan!"

"I _HATE_ you, Tristan!"

"Tristan!"

"TRISTAN!"

She was running; her feet carrying her effortlessly over protruding tree roots or rotted logs. She crashed through bushes and trampled flowers that dared spring up in her path. She closed the distance between them, making enough noise to wake the dead as she did so. He turned, probably to send her sprawling to the ground again, and she grabbed him. And without giving him the chance to shake her off – she kissed him.

Aurelia kissed Tristan.

She pressed her lips against his whilst the same words she had been shouting before ran over and over again in her head. _I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!_

And then it was awkward.

With her anger finally draining away, Aurelia began to realise that Tristan had not reacted to her kiss. He had stood, stiff as a board as she held her lips, firmly pursed, to his. Horror replaced whatever emotion had possessed her before.

She was an idiot.

"I-I-I-"

And she was stuttering.

"I'm sorry!" she blurted out.

At some point, either during her manhandling of him or the disastrous kiss, Tristan's hair had fallen over his face, hiding his eyes and making it even harder to tell exactly what was going through his mind, an already impossible task normally. Her mouth gaped open and shut like a fish and the she turned around, the only part of her mind working rationally having come to the conclusion that, for her mental and physical wellbeing, it was probably best if she put some distance between them. And fast.

Aurelia hadn't had the chance to make it very far though when a strong hand grabbed her arm and spun her back round. This time the kiss was anything but awkward.

It was more a struggle for dominance; him fighting to forcefully take back whatever she had stolen when she'd surprised him with the first kiss. There was no tenderness behind it. No concern of making sure she enjoyed it. It was taking with no intention of giving anything back.

She felt his other hand travel up her back and tangle itself in her hair. He jerked her head back baring her neck to him and taking away whatever leverage she had, practically rendering her helpless.

But Aurelia refused to be cowed – to be conquered.

Taking a leaf out of Tristan's book, she seized a handful of his hair and pulled him down to her. Regaining her advantage, she retaliated just as forcefully. The entire thing was violent, not the least bit naïve as her first kiss had been, angry though she was.

And then his teeth were biting down on her lip; a mark of possession. She felt her legs trembling. She clung desperately to the sleeves of his tunic with her free hand. She was determined not to give him the pleasure of knowing what effect he was having on her.

And then his tongue ran over her bottom lip. Her knees gave way at that, any other thought flying from her mind, and she could almost forgive him the smirk she felt growing against her lips. Just as long as he kept doing what he was doing. Just as long as – 

And then she was clawing at his back. And he was biting her neck, just enough to make it hurt. And then his breath was caressing the bites. And it felt so good. And – 

_Oh my…_

---

**A/N:**

**Aquila: eagle**

**The Latin version of Psalm 23 comes straight from the Vulgate. I'm not sure if it's typical to use a rosary when saying that like with the '**_**Ave Maria**_**'s or '**_**Pater noster**_**'s but I don't suppose it's wrong to.**

**Gosh! The beginning of this chapter was SO hard to write. And then I decided to just change it completely. But I think the ending more than made up for the wait, huh? Haha! But some parts of this chapter really make me shudder at the utter horrible-ness of it. And the epic length really wasn't planned. My head hurts.**

**Trust Aurelia to be the one to initiate anything, bungled though it was. And trust Tristan to react so rough and violent. If he's a little OOC (though I don't think he is) I apologise. And please tell me if Aurelia's getting Mary-Sue-ish. I try hard to make sure she's not but lately she's kind of gotten away from me.**

**I've just realised something. I think almost every King Arthur story I've read describes Tristan as 'taciturn'. I was quite reluctant to use the word actually but I suppose it had to eventually crop up somewhere.**

**And as you can see, if you've looked at my profile, I have three other stories in the works, including the one I mentioned in the last chapter. Sorry – couldn't help myself. They still won't be posted until this one's done though.**

**Thank you to all **_**FOUR**_** reviewers last chapter: **_Greendoggie__ Galasriniel_** (how did your audition go?), **_Soccer-Bitch_** and **_Hessa_**. And everyone who put this story on alert (I think there were a few)**

**Phew! 10 and a half pages (not including the long author's notes I'm prone to writing). Hope it wasn't too boring.**

**- Scribbles**


	11. Chapter X

**A/N:**** Gosh! I'm SO sorry for the late update. I had thought I'd be able to get an update up after my arts school audition or even after my Musical Theatre exam but then I had scholarship applications (which have to be one of the most annoying things in the world!) AND THEN writer's block decided it would be a good time to crop up. I mean, I KNEW what the chapter was going to be about and everything but for some reason it didn't flow right and I couldn't put my ideas into words (THE most frustrating thing in the world) -sigh- But it's up now and I hope it doesn't disappoint.**

JBugJ** mentioned that I've got a few different plot points and it gets confusing. I've realised that but always hoped I could get away without causing too much confusion. Finally got caught. Darn…But I hope this chapter clears some things up for you guys.**

**On a side note, listening to Loreena McKennitt puts one in a good mood to write period stories. So does reading Georgette Heyer novels. I highly recommend 'Devil's Cub'. 'Regency Buck' is pretty good too.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I DO NOT own anything recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur. I DO own everything else. So please don't steal.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter X**

It was a cold and foggy morning the day they left for Hadrian's Wall. The entire village had gathered to say goodbye. Some were there to say farewell to friends they were sure they would never again meet under such pleasant circumstances. Others were there to make sure they actually left. And just on the edge of all the proceedings, a pair of wise old eyes regarded two of them sadly.

No one had noticed anything out of the ordinary with those two. But that was because no one was _looking_ for anything out of the ordinary.

The night before, when she had been doing a reading for Merlin's man, she had seen it. _Death_…

She had assumed that what she had saw pertained to the rumoured upcoming invasion of Britain. It did match up with what the man was telling her about Merlin's visions and reports from the Northern coast about longship sightings. But she couldn't be sure until she had done a reading with the offals of a freshly slaughtered animal.

Where were those two with her boar!

And then she was lying on her back, looking up at a smoke-filled sky. A hawk circled overhead, protectively it seemed. And she knew she was dying. A sudden rush of water filled her lungs. But she felt no fear – only a strange feeling of peace.

"Old Mother!"

She was on her knees on the floor of her hut, chest heaving as shuddering, raspy breaths escaped pass her lips. She had known then why the two had yet to return to the village.

"What did you see, Old Mother?" the man had asked, his voice anxious. "Will we survive this?"

"I'm not sure," she had admitted, accepting the man's hand as he gently helped her back to her feet. "I'm not sure."

--

Aurelia was feeling rather fidgety. She was aware that she was purposely avoiding Tristan and that it was utterly childish but wasn't in much of a mood to care.

When she and Tristan had finally returned to the village the previous evening, she had made an effort not to be seen standing too close to him and had in fact not been in his presence alone since then.

She knew that _he_ knew that she was intentionally avoiding eye contact and was well aware of the sardonic amusement the scout was deriving from her behaviour. The slight lifting of the corners of his mouths, not matter how imperceptible to others, each time she happened to catch his eye, unintentional though it was, seemed to her almost like a wide-mouthed, toothy grin on the usually expressionless face of the knight and she was surprised that no one had yet to find anything suspicious in his behaviour. Though if she had been in a calmer state of mind, she would have realised that people would have found her own behaviour far more suspicious than they would have ever found his. If she had been in a calmer state of mind, she would have noticed how intently Old Mother was regarding her.

Little Seirian and her mother were, at the moment, saying their goodbyes to the Roman they had become rather attached to. The young Briton girl had latched herself around Aurelia's legs and was refusing to let go.

"Don't go, Relia! It'll be so boring without you," pouted the blue-eyed girl.

Aurelia laughed in what she hoped was a reassuring way and gave young Seirian an affectionate pat on the head.

"It won't be as bad as all that! And I have to go, Seirian. It's not only myself I have to think about now. If it were, I promise you I wouldn't want anything more than to stay here with you and your mother."

Said mother now pried her daughter off Aurelia and hugged the girl herself.

"When did you become so mature, child?" she asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Aurelia's ear in a motherly gesture.

Aurelia smiled though her brow creased slightly in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

This time it was the young Briton mother's turn to smile affectionately at her.

"I know you ran away from home to avoid an unwanted marriage. And I know the promise of freedom from a lifetime of servitude to Rome is being dangled over the heads of our Sarmatian friends but only upon your safe return to Hadrian's Wall."

Aurelia laughed, though it was rather forced.

"Who's been whispering nonsense in your ear?"

"Dagonet," said Seirian's mother simply.

"Oh." Aurelia had not expected it to be him. She plastered a smile on her face. "I'm not at all as selfless as you think. I'll probably run away again once we get to the Wall and they're freed from their bonds to Rome."

"That is only to be expected," replied the woman with a teasing smile. "In fact, I would be surprised if you didn't. This Roman suitor of yours sounds detestable."

"I wouldn't really call him a suitor. He's already married. And there was no wooing or courtship before marriage was brought up."

"Even worse. Do take care of yourself, Aurelia."

The Briton hugged her again and Aurelia buried her face in the woman's hair, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would prevent the inevitable from happening. The young mother held her closer, feeling the girl shaking in her arms and knowing that she was frightened of what awaited her back at the Wall. Finally, taking a deep breath, Aurelia let the woman go. She saw tears glistening in the Roman's eyes for a brief moment before the girl turned away from her, her attention now fixed on an ancient figure hobbling towards them.

"Hmph! You three can stop blubbering. Here! Take Seirian and say your goodbyes to the others. I want to talk to the girl," ordered Old Mother.

As young Seirian and her mother drifted towards the knights, Old Mother's hand shot out and grabbed Aurelia's chin, pulling her head down and searching her eyes for something. Not for the first time, Aurelia wondered how it was possible that the old crone managed to move so fast. With a disappointed frown, Old Mother realised Aurelia from her grasp and shook her head.

"Aye, child. There was no use warning you at all, was there?"

"What do you mean?" Aurelia muttered, rubbing her chin. "And we weren't blubbering."

"You and that boy!" said Old Mother, pointing the end of her stick accusingly at the girl's face.

A horrible suspicion dawned on Aurelia but she was not about to admit to anything.

"What boy?" she asked stupidly.

"Gah! Impossible! The both of you!" Old Mother peered intently at the girl and shook her head again. "Gah!" She reached into the pocket of her dress, withdrew what looked like a necklace, and pressed it into the girl's hand. "Take this. It will protect you."

Aurelia looked down at the object in her hand. It was a carved piece of ivory; a tusk of a wild boar to be exact, very probably the one Tristan had slain, with a small hole drilled through the thick end through which a length of leather had been threaded. Two swans with their necks entwined were etched on the bone. Old Mother placed her hand over the girl's; the look in her eyes was almost sad.

"You should have listened to me. The both of you."

For some reason, Aurelia felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she said, though she didn't quite know why she was apologising.

Old Mother waved a dismissive hand.

"Saying sorry won't change anything, girl." Old Mother sighed. "Keep that. It will help you one day."

Aurelia nodded and tied the talisman around her neck, tucking it down the front of her bodice. Once this was done, Old Mother's hand shot out again, grabbing the back of the girl's head and pulling her down once more. Too shocked to move, Aurelia simply stood, bent almost double, wide-eyed and still.

"Be wary, child," she whispered hoarsely into Aurelia's ear. There was a pause and the aged hag seemed almost unsure if she should speak her next words. "And stay clear of the water."

Old Mother released the girl then, nodded curtly, turned, and hobbled away, leaving the girl rooted to her spot.

"Aurelia?"

A hesitant hand touched the girl lightly on her shoulder. It took a while for Aurelia to realise that the old crone had long since left her side and that Galahad was now looking at her in obvious concern. She smiled at that. The knight seemed to worry a lot ever since being placed in charge of her. She supposed she wasn't all too good for his mental health.

"I'm all right, Galahad. Help me up, will you?"

The crowd had thinned by now and almost all the knights were sitting astride their horses. Little Seirian and her mother were still bidding farewell to Dagonet and Aurelia couldn't help but smile at that.

As the young Roman settled into the saddle and Galahad hoisted himself up behind her, Aurelia noticed Old Mother approaching Tristan. Apparently, she was not the only one.

"Tristan must be ecstatic," laughed Galahad. "I'm actually surprised he hasn't killed her yet. I guess Old Mother scares even him. Really, that woman…"

But the knight simply trailed off, seeming to think better of what he was about to say. They watched as Old Mother lifted her stick to give the scout a firm whack on the thigh to get his attention. This earned her a dark glower that really had no effect except to make her hit the knight again. Aurelia could feel Galahad trembling with the effort of suppressing his laughter and she felt her lips twitch at the strain of not laughing at the scout as well. After a short, heated, and mostly one-sided, exchange, Old Mother grabbed the Tristan's hand and pressed something into it. Aurelia suspected she knew what it was.

She watched as Tristan examined the object in his hand, his face void of expression. And then he looked up, his eyes catching hers. She started, blushed furiously, and hurriedly looked away.

"Are you all right?" asked Galahad as his arm tightened around her waist to prevent her from falling off his horse.

"Um…thought I saw a snake," Aurelia lied.

The curly haired knight seemed to accept her lie and returned his attention to the scene unfolding before them. Waving her walking stick in clear agitation for one last time, Old Mother finally left the knight and made her way to her granddaughters, who were still in the company of the gentle giant.

"I wonder what that was about?" mused Galahad.

"She's probably upset that she won't have anyone to send on idiotic errands now," said Aurelia, wondering how it was that lying suddenly came so easily to her.

The knight laughed.

Clasping the village elder's hand one last time, Arthur mounted his horse, turned to his knights, and with a nod, nudged his steed into a canter which eventually broke into a full out gallop. The other knights quickly followed suit, though Dagonet seemed to take longer to do so and Seirian's mother seemed to let go of his hand rather reluctantly. Aurelia turned slightly in the saddle to look back at little Seirian and her young mother one final time. She wondered if she would ever see them again. She hoped she would.

The journey back to Hadrian's Wall was, thankfully, rather uneventful. On the last day, Tristan rode with them, having scouted ahead and finding nothing to endanger them.

Aurelia found her eyes inexplicably drawn to the scout, try hard as she might to ignore him. Tristan was slouching and had it been any other knight, she would have thought that he was relaxed. But he wasn't any other knight and she knew better. He was most probably suspicious of the fact that they had yet to be set upon by Woads. Either that or he was sulking over the fact that it had been a while since he last caused anyone grievous injury.

The longer she stared at him, the hotter her face grew until she was a startling rouge all the way to the tips of her ears. Memories of that evening; more specifically of their kiss; played over and over again in her mind, causing her blood to rush to all the embarrassing places. Things had escalated at an alarming pace and the girl was sure that in most polite circles she would no longer be considered innocent. But she was still a maiden, even if just barely.

The Roman's rather torrid musings came to an abrupt halt though as they crested a hill. Down below them stretched Hadrian's Wall and its city.

Aurelia heard Galahad sigh behind her. She knew he was thinking of his discharge papers. That was what their return held for them. Marriage to a man she had never seen and was probably old enough to be her grandfather. That was that their return held for her.

"Wait." Her voice was barely a whisper, but Galahad heard. He reined his horse to a stop and reached for her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. " Can we…can we not go back? Not right now."

"Aurelia, I – "

"Is something wrong?"

Arthur had ridden back to them, having noticed that Galahad had stopped following them. One look at Aurelia's face and he knew why.

"My lady?"

"Could we…spend the night here and go back to the city in the morning?"

Aurelia knew her request was unreasonable. Everyone had been looking forward to reaching the Wall and now she was asking them to wait one more night. It was just so…_Roman_. But looking at the Wall, at the city that laid below them, the girl felt her stomach heaving and her breath catching and it took all her self-control not to faint dead away. Arthur gave her an empathetic look.

"I'm sorry, my lady. With all the setbacks we've run into, it would probably be best to get you back to your parents as soon as possible." He turned his horse back round, paused, and said without looking back at her, "I really am sorry."

Aurelia had to fight her impulse to jump off Galahad's horse and run into the forest. She knew that would be doing the knights the greatest disservice imaginable and, for some reason, she felt that she could not do that to them. Galahad must have read something in her sudden tension, for his arm tightened around her, almost painfully so, making it near impossible for her to move even if she wanted to.

Heads turned as they tore through the gates of the city. Some seemed happy to see the knights return. Others, the legionnaires Aurelia noticed, scowled. She wondered if they had hoped this mission over the Wall would be the Sarmatian cavalry's last. Word must have spread of their return and of the strange bedraggled girl that accompanied them for as they drew up in the courtyard of what she assumed was Arthur's domus, Aurelia saw her mother rushing out to greet them, followed closely by her brother.

"AURELIA! MY BABY! MY LOVE!"

She had barely gotten off Galahad's horse when she was set upon by her mother and smothered in rolls of silk and perfume. The girl felt her face grow red at all the attention her mother was drawing towards them.

"Mother, Aurelia does need to breathe," said Lucius, catching the growing look of alarm on his sister's face and coming to her rescue.

"Oh! Of course! But just look at you, my poor child!" Lady Valeria exclaimed. "What have they done to you? Your hands!"

Aurelia's left sleeve had ridden up her arms and her mother had immediately noticed the slight scarring on her wrists. This in turn brought her attention to the discolouration of her daughter's fingers on the same hand and realised that they must have been recently injured as well. A look of pure horror spread across the woman's face.

"Aurelia!" she gasped. "What did they _do_ to you?"

"It's really nothing, Mother," the young Roman tried to reassure her. "Arthur and his men have taken really good care of me. It was mostly my fault really."

But the Lady Valeria was not listening. She seemed to notice for the first time that her daughter was not wearing one of her own dresses and was jumping to a horrifying conclusion.

"They didn't…_do_ anything…the Woads…you're not…are you? Did they?" She looked meaningfully at her daughter and then at her dress, her eyes growing wider with each passing second it took for Aurelia to catch her meaning.

"M-mother!"

Aurelia could see her brother growing uncomfortable, obviously having understood what their mother was hinting at. The girl stared resolutely at a spot on her mother's brow for she was sure that if she caught her brother's eyes she would burst out in helpless laughter.

"They didn't do anything to me. No one's done anything to me."

She was instantly reminded of Tristan. But her mother never needed to know of that. And neither did Lucius, for her brother would most likely do something stupid if he knew; like try to kill Tristan in an attempt to restore her honour or something else as ridiculous as that.

Lady Valeria still look worried but she finally gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank God then. You're marriage to Senator Servilius can go on as planned."

The cry of incredulous outrage came not from Aurelia but from Lucius, as she was too busy staring at her mother in disbelief to say anything. She noticed for the first time that her mother's relief at her safe retrieval from the Woads paled in comparison to her relief at knowing that her daughter would still be considered an appropriate match for the Roman Senator. Aurelia felt anger boiling up inside her at first but that was soon overtaken by a wave of sadness that washed over her.

This did not go unnoticed by Lucius but before he could start another argument with their mother, they were interrupted by a much-welcomed voice.

"Valeria! Come now, you must let Aurelia rest. I'm sure it must have been a terrifying and exhausting experience for her."

Aurelia's head shot up at the sound of her father's voice, a wide grin spreading across her face. But that soon slipped away when she realised who had accompanied him out of the domus.

From the look on Senator Servilius' face, he was anything but impressed by her. In fact, she was sure he almost looked disgusted. His wife stood behind him with a gentle smile on her face but Aurelia was suspicious of it. Why should she be smiling at the safe return of her husband's mistress? For that was what she would be, no matter what anyone else said.

A hand on her shoulder distracted her from her dark musings.

"I'm glad you're safe," her father smiled down at her, his face an expression of genuine relief.

Aurelia only managed a weak smile in reply before her mother whisked her off into the domus calling Furia to her as she did.

"We must get you washed up, dear! And I'm sure you would want to get out of that dress. You'll have a chance to show the Senator how beautiful you really are under all that dirt at dinner tonight."

"I'm not beautiful, Mother," muttered Aurelia.

"The Senator can go – " growled Lucius.

Lady Valeria either hadn't heard them or was choosing to ignore what they said, though she did sigh one of her long-suffering sighs. Trailing behind them, Furia smiled to herself. It would seem things were returning to normal in the family of Aurelius. But the smile did not quite reach her eyes because she knew, even with the danger of the Woads, her mistress really had been much safer out there, beyond the Wall, than she would ever be with Senator Gaius Servilius.

--

It was unnaturally quiet inside the room allotted to Aurelia during her stay at Arthur's domus. She was standing over a piece of cloth as Furia combed her hair, dislodging bits of leaves and other forest debris which fell onto the cloth that would later be disposed of. A hot bath had been brought into her room on her mother's orders and after her hair had been satisfactorily brushed, Furia helped her out of her dress.

And gave a small cry of distress.

"Aurelia! Your back!"

The girl winced. She had forgotten about that.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"_How bad is it?_" cried Furia incredulously. She dragged her mistress to the mirror and turned her around so her back was reflected in it. Aurelia looked over her shoulder.

"Oh."

Furia frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Aurelia seemed slightly surprised at the state of her back but the calmness she displayed seemed suspicious to her handmaid.

"Just what did happen out there?"

The Briton watched as her mistress turned away from the mirror, tried to avoid her eyes and proceeded to turn so very red that she almost seemed to glow. Furia sighed. Walking behind Aurelia, she lightly traced the long, angry scratches that covered the girl's back.

"Does it hurt?"

Aurelia timidly shook her head.

"What _happened_ out there?" she asked again.

Aurelia buried her face in her hands and Furia thought she was about to cry. But though tears did roll down her cheeks, the girl giggled and stumbled over her words and seemed more confused and embarrassed than upset. Furia listened quietly and patiently as her young charge told her everything that happened; from the moment the Woads had taken her, to when the knights found her, to their stay at the Briton village.

"And I know it was wrong. And Mother would be furious. And Lucius would go positively crazy if he ever knew. But – but – I couldn't think and everything was happening so fast. And Tristan – I think he pushed me up against a tree at one point and I suppose that was what scratched my back but I don't really remember that because – Oh Furia!" finished Aurelia helplessly.

"And all you did was kiss him?"

"Of course!" cried the girl, sure that the question was a censure until she saw the teasing smile on her handmaid and confidant's face. "Furia!"

The Briton laughed and enveloped Aurelia in a comforting hug.

"It seems that you have found your knight, my lady."

Aurelia started.

"Tristan! My knight? That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard! He's the most odious person I've ever met – well, except maybe for that Senator – and he positively despises me. He almost killed me the first time we met! And I'm sure if it weren't for Arthur he would have tried to kill me many more times during our journey back."

"But he kissed you back, didn't he?" Furia reasoned.

That silenced the girl and she fell back on her bed, no less confused than she had been before spilling her thoughts to her friend.

"The whore of Babylon," she finally said.

"What?" asked Furia, frowning in confusion.

"The whore of Babylon!" Aurelia cried dramatically. "That's what Mother's going to say when she finds out. What should I _do_, Furia?"

Furia laughed.

"Now you're just being silly. What you should do is get up and get into that bath before the water turns cold and you dirty the sheets of your bed even more."

Aurelia sighed but obediently got up, ducking her head into the water upon Furia's orders. As she washed her mistress' hair, Furia smiled to herself, a plan forming in her head. She had meant to share the information she had discovered from that servant, Cicero, with Aurelia. But now there seemed to be someone more capable of acting on that information than Aurelia could. She would have told Lucius but knew how he would react.

No, she wouldn't tell Lucius. But this Tristan however…

Maybe all was not yet lost.

--

"QUINTUS!"

The Roman officer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, placing down the quill he had been holding. Quintus Aurelius had been in the middle of composing a letter to the centurion he left in charge of his household and troops up North. But knowing his wife, she would not let him get back to his letter until he had done whatever it was she wanted him to do.

"QUIIIIIIINTUUUUUUS!"

"In here, Valeria dear!"

"Quintus!" she cried as she ran into the room. "She's gone!"

"Who's gone, my dear?"

Lady Valeria glared at her husband. That was not the reaction she had hoped to get from him.

"How can you be so calm?" she screamed, her voice accusatory.

"Because, my love, you have yet to tell me what it is that has you all hysterical," Aurelius replied in a voice so infuriatingly reasonable that it only agitated his wife even more.

"I have every right to be hysterical, Quintus! She's gone! Again!"

"Are you talking about Aurelia?"

"Of course I'm talking about Aurelia! Who else would I be talking about? I should have locked her door. Placed sentries in the hall."

"Calm down, my dear," said Aurelius, getting up from his chair to grab hold of his wife's hands as the Lady Valeria had started waving them around erratically and had almost upset a vase full of flowers. "Besides, knowing Aurelia, she would have most likely climbed out the window if we locked her door."

"Quintus!" Lady Valeria cried, beating her small fists against his chest. "You're. Not. Helping!"

Aurelius sighed.

"Have you asked Lucius if he's seen her? He most likely brought her out to show her the city."

"No, he hasn't! He's in the stables with one of those Sarmatians," his wife frowned disapprovingly. "He's taken it into his head that he'd like to become a knight."

Aurelius smiled but said nothing about his son's sudden interest in knighthood.

"Then how about Furia? She would most definitely know where Aurelia is."

If possible, Lady Valeria's frown deepened.

"I can't find her either."

"Well there you have it," said Aurelius, as if that solved the matter. "If Furia is with her, we have nothing to worry about."

"Quiiintuuus!"

"All right, dear. All right. I will go look for her."

This seemed to calm the Lady Valeria down, even if only slightly. She attempted a smile that did not quite stay on her face.

"I'm not sure I can do this, Quintus."

Realising that there was something else weighing heavy on his wife's thoughts, Aurelius led her to the chair he had previously occupied and gently lowered her into it. He knelt down by her, still holding her hands in his, and waited patiently for her to reveal what was troubling her so.

"I…I'm not sure I can go through with this, Quintus. I don't think I could lose her again."

"Valeria…"

He moved to pull her into an embrace and held her shaking frame close as she tried to hold back her tears.

"I will go to Servilius and tell him that it's off," he said softly into her hair.

"NO!" protested Lady Valeria so violently that she pushed herself out of her husband's arms. "If Aurelia does not become his mistress, if she does not marry him, then…you…you…"

"I know, my love. I know. But if she _does_ marry him, what will become of her then? Surely you have not been deaf to the rumours?"

"They are just that; rumours! Aurelia…Aurelia will be fine." But her voice did not sound convincing even to herself.

"More than three mistresses in two years, Valeria! And we were none too happy to comply with his request when we received his letter in the first place. We should have done our duty as parents – _I_ should have done my duty as a father – and said 'no'."

"Quintus, I can't bear to lose Aurelia," admitted Lady Valeria in a small, shaking voice. "But it would kill me to lose you!"

Aurelius smiled down at his wife.

"Valeria," he breathed. "My love. My life." He pressed a kiss on her forehead. "We have to tell her."

"She's going to hate us," Lady Valeria whimpered.

Aurelius laughed.

"I'll be surprised if she doesn't already."

"Not helping," his wife grumbled.

Quintus Aurelius first searched every corner of Artorius Castus' home, before taking to the city and it was only as he scaled the stairs to the Wall's battlements, hoping to at last find his daughter there, did he really start to worry. But upon catching sight of a tan coloured horse beneath a tree just outside the city, he smiled.

Aurelia had not bothered to secure Dice's reins but the mare seemed content with a patch of daisies and was not likely to take off. Aurelius looked up into the branches of the tree and was not surprised to see his daughter seated amongst the leaves rather high up, with Furia just a few branches below her. She had changed into a looser Roman robe yet that did not seem to hinder her.

"Can I come up?" he called out to her.

Aurelia looked down and from the expression on her face, Aurelius guessed that she was not the least bit startled to see him.

"Did Mother send you?"

"She's worried." Aurelius watched as his daughter simply nodded distractedly and turned her gaze to something else that seemed to hold her attention up in the tree. "So may I come up?"

"If you want to," she finally said with a careless shrug.

Furia shuffled on her branch to give her master space to climb up to his daughter and gave him a small, contrite smile as he passed her. Aurelius groaned as he settled on a thick branch within arm's reach of his daughter.

"I'm too old to be climbing trees," he complained, secretly pleased by the small smile that admission brought to Aurelia's lips.

Father and daughter sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun drop below the horizon, each lost in their own thoughts. Below them, Furia picked at a thread unravelling in her dress, silently debating if she should leave or stay. She wanted to give them their privacy but was reluctant to jolt them out of their reverie by climbing down. The decision was taken out of her hands when Aurelius spoke up.

"I'm telling the Senator we no longer desire your marriage to him."

Aurelia started.

"Why?"

The question had slipped out before she could stop herself. She knew she should have been feeling grateful for her parents' sudden change of heart but the girl honestly wanted to know what had brought it about.

Aurelius sighed and Aurelia knew, just from that sigh alone, that something weighed heavy on her father's shoulders. For the first time since her return, the young Roman was able to take a good look at her father and what she saw was almost enough to jolt her out of the tree.

She had always thought of her father as someone invincible; one of the few things in her life that would never change. But the man had seemed to age ten years since she last saw him. What had once been strands of grey had now become streaks and laugh lines had turned into worry wrinkles. She felt regret and a great deal of sadness for having been responsible for this change in her father.

Aurelius seemed to be able to read his daughter's thoughts for he reached out to place a hand on her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze, smiling in his loving, fatherly way as he did so.

"Your mother and I have made a good mess of things, haven't we?"

"No more of a mess than I made when I ran away, which, just so you know, I'm not really sorry for doing. Well, maybe a little. But not that much."

Aurelius laughed.

"No. You would have been sorry for the trouble it caused but never for the actual act of running away. It wouldn't be like you if you did."

Aurelia smiled.

"Am I that much of a brat?"

"You are when you want to be," replied her father with one of his smiles that her mother always described as aggravatingly smug.

The sun had set even lower and the light had turned into that soft, gentle glow that signalled the onset of evening. Aurelia knew that dinner would soon be served and that she and her father were expected to be there punctually but was reluctant to climb down just yet.

"Why are you calling it off?"

"Do you want to marry the Senator?" asked Aurelius teasingly and was rewarded by his daughter protesting so vehemently she almost pushed herself off her branch. "I was joking, dear."

"Well, it wasn't a very nice joke," pouted Aurelia.

Aurelius smiled but soon turned serious as he finally broached the subject he had been meaning to share with his daughter.

"Your mother and I never really desired your marriage with the Senator. But when we first received his letter, agreeing to his request for your hand seemed to be the only thing we could do."

"You could have said no," retorted Aurelia.

"I didn't think I could," admitted Aurelius.

"Why not?"

Quintus Aurelius who had fearlessly faced down numerous foes intent on his death, now quaked at the thought of the disappointment he was about to cause this tiny slip of a girl. He seemed to struggle with his words but Aurelia waited patiently for her father to sort his thoughts out.

"Your mother was the daughter of a nobleman, you know? Your grandfather was one of the most powerful men in Rome. She could have married…_anyone_. But she chose to fall in love with a legionnaire, son of a glassblower, with not a follis to his name."

Aurelia listened silently. She had always known that her father was not wellborn. Any claims to nobility was only through her mother's lineage, which was considered very impressive, and they were only able to live the way they did because of her father's appointment as a Roman commander. She knew this was not what was troubling her father though, and so she waited for him to continue.

"You brother was only two and your grandfather had just started talking to your mother again. Though he never really did forgive her for marrying me. I had just been promoted to centurion and my friends and I were celebrating."

Aurelius laughed a harsh, self-deprecating laugh.

"I should have walked away but the wine had befuddled my sense," said Aurelius, admitting in a roundabout way that he had been stupidly drunk. Aurelia said nothing but listened quietly without a trace of judgement on her face.

"He was the son of a Senator; a young insolent boy, too sure of himself. But I was no better. My friends swore later that it was an accident, and maybe it was but I should have never raised a fist against him. That alone was suicide. But I wasn't thinking. He had a knife hidden on his person. Or maybe he had picked it up from a table. I don't quite remember. We struggled. And he fell. I'm still not sure how it happened but the blade pierced his liver."

Aurelius paused again, looking at anything except his daughter. Aurelia remained silent.

"Somehow, word reached Gaius Servilius, even before the boy's family knew. Your mother always thought that Servilius was having the boy watched. Apparently the Senators tended to keep a close watch on each other. She always suspected that we stumbled onto some political plot and maybe she was right. Apparently the boy's family perished not a year later when their home caught fire."

Aurelius ran a hand through his hair.

"Servilius offered a way out. Take up a post in Britain and he'd make it all go away, on the condition that we owed him one favour. He wouldn't say what it was and I didn't ask. And so we came here and five years later, we had you."

Aurelius turned to his daughter then and smiled a small sad smile.

"Do you hate you father now?"

Aurelia shook her head but returned a weak smile of her own.

"Maybe when I think more about it later, I will. What happens to you if I don't go back to Rome with him?"

"An eye for an eye. A life for a life."

Aurelia nodded. She had expected that.

"Did he say anything? The boy, I mean. Did he provoke you?"

"He may have said some things about your mother that I will not be repeating to you," said Aurelius, looking down at his hands.

Aurelia looked down at her bare feet as she swung her legs to and fro. The sun had sunk well below the horizon by now and the lights had been lit in the city. They were going to be late for dinner.

"We should be heading back in now," said Aurelius softly but Aurelia stopped him before he could begin his climb down.

"Don't…" she trailed off as he gave her a quizzing look. "Don't say 'no' yet. I want to think about it first."

"But Aurelia – "

"Please," she begged, cutting her father off.

Aurelius gave his daughter a look that spoke of his confusion at her strange request. He would have thought she would be ecstatic at no longer having to leave with Senator Servilius but he nodded and agreed not to say a word until she had time to think things over.

"Tell Mother I'll come down in a while. I want to stay here a bit."

Aurelius nodded again.

"Don't stay out too long."

"I won't," Aurelia promised.

They waited until he was out of hearing distance before Furia spoke up.

"What are you planning to do?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Aurelia. "If I run away again now, Arthur and the others will suffer for it as they don't have their discharge papers yet – which must be frustrating Galahad to no end – and the Senator will probably make sure my father suffers as well. I can't do that to them."

"Well, at least you have some time before you make up your mind," said Furia. "Your mother has requested that the Senator and Lady Flavia postpone leaving for a few days so that you may rest and recover your strength. Would you be wanting your sandals now, my lady?"

Aurelia sighed and climbed down to Furia.

"Give them here."

As she tied her sandals onto her feet, a sudden thought occurred to her and Aurelia gave a helpless bark of laughter. The words she had spat in Tristan's face that night in the forest came back to her, unbidden and unwanted. _At least my family loves me enough not to sell my soul in exchange for a few miserable years of life in servitude_. And they hadn't. They had bargained her away into a _lifetime_ of servitude. She laughed harshly again. Wouldn't Tristan just love to hear this?

Furia kept wisely silent.

With a few coaxing clicks of her tongue, Aurelia managed to get Dice to come up underneath the tree. She haphazardly slid onto Dice's back, almost falling off once when her sandaled foot slipped underneath her when she had been trying to balance herself on the saddle. Furia slipped easily into the saddle behind her mistress and they headed back into the city at a slow trot.

Dinner that evening was an uncomfortable affair. Aurelia did not only arrive late but she also accidentally knocked over a platter of sweet meats a servant had been carrying into the room. Arthur dined with them that night, as did the Senator and his wife. The conversation was stilted and forced and, if looks could kill, Senator Servilius would already be deep; deep underground from all the glares Lucius threw his way throughout the entire meal.

The Senator completely ignored her, addressing himself only to Arthur and her father but Aurelia did not mind. It gave her the opportunity to observe him and as dinner wore on she found herself liking him less and less. By the end of the night, she was still unsure as to her thoughts regarding her parents but she had at least made one decision.

As Aurelia lay down to sleep and Furia doused the candles, the one thought that occupied her mind was that, somehow, before they left for Rome, she had to find a way to get rid of Senator Gaius Servilius.

--

**A/N:**

**Follis: a large bronze coin**

**Darn this was hard to write! But there you have it! And again the epic length was unplanned but I didn't want to cut it in half because I thought you guys deserved a longer chapter for waiting so patiently for so long. Hope it's not too boring.**

**I haven't gone through and read the whole chapter but I re-read it in bits whilst I was writing it so I hope there aren't too many mistakes (still don't have a beta and it's rather late in the story for one now anyway)**

**My thanks to all who put this story on alert or fav-ed it. And merci beaucoup to all my reviewers (here comes a list): **_**Soccer-Bitch**_**, **_**Shaeya Sedjet**_**, **_**JBugJ**_**, **_**chloedancer1015**_**, **_**Nina**_**, **_**ExtremeAngelxJeffHardyFan**_**, **_**ShatteredRhapsody**_**, **_**NeelaPlushenko**_**, **_**peachpaige**_**, **_**The Dancing Egg**_**, **_**vmorigane**_**, **_**Greendoggie**_** and **_**Adamantien**_**. I love you guys so much (in a non-lesbian way) Hope I spelt all your names right too.**

**I'd like to hit 100 reviews by the end of this story (though I'm not sure that's going to happen) but for now, let's aim for 80-85, 'k?**

**- Scribbles**


	12. Chapter XI

**A/N****: FREEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOM!! Well…ish. Now I only have to wait for the school and scholarship people to get back to me. **

**We're almost at the end – maybe five more chapters to go. I just want to say though that I do consider the movie canon. Conclude from that what you will.**

**And a lot of you guys wanted more Tristan this time round. Well…hope this chapter makes up for his lack of appearance in the last one.**

**The Pit and its description is something I completely made up. I giggled like a schoolgirl whilst typing the first sentence : )**

**DISCLAIMER****: I own nothing except my OCs. Everything else belongs to the movie, King Arthur.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter XI**

The air was thick with the smell of sweat and the sound of heavy breathing. The shrill ring of metal against metal echoed throughout the courtyard as feet kicked up clouds of dust from the sand and sawdust mixture that covered the ground. The Pit, as the series of courtyards were affectionately called, was a short walk from Arthur's domus, and was a sort of training ground where Sarmatian knights and Roman legionnaires were both welcomed to participate in sparring matches. It stood in lieu of a proper military amphitheatre, bordered on one side by a public bath and the public stables on another, with the open-aired courtyards separated by sheltered walkways; an attempt to prevent the fighting from spilling into other areas of the Pit and getting out of had. Not that they really helped.

A body hit the ground hard, throwing up more dust clouds. It rolled to the side in time to avoid being struck by a blade and had to twist like a snake to avoid another. Taunting laughter rang out as the man on the ground jumped to his feet, sword wielded defensively in front of him and eyes trained on his opponent who swung his twin swords almost carelessly at his side.

"Ready, Galahad?" laughed Lancelot, beads of sweat glistening on his bare chest, as the two knights circled each other.

Galahad simply smiled grimly in reply. Each waited for the other to make the first move. They were still warily observing each other when they were joined by two more of their comrades.

"Lancelot! You big, bully! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" called out Gawain as he and Tristan neared the miniature arena the two knights were in.

"Are you challenging me?" Lancelot shouted back, a provoking smirk on his face. It was the opening Galahad had been waiting for.

He moved in for a blow that the elder knight just barely deflected and followed that with a well-aimed kick to the back of Lancelot's knee. Lancelot grunted from the impact of that same knee hitting the ground but pushed off with his other leg to pivot round and block another blow; this time aimed at his neck. Gawain leaned lazily against a stone pillar that supported the roof of the walkway, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"You did that on purpose," said Tristan, a statement instead of a question.

"Of course," said Gawain and they shared a conspiring smile.

But despite Gawain's help, Galahad soon found himself flat on his back with Lancelot standing over him.

"Ready to surrender?" asked Lancelot with a ridiculous boyish grin.

"Galahad's not too happy," said Gawain to Tristan, in way of explanation of his brother's lack of concentration. "He thought our papers would be waiting for us when we got back."

"Well, what do you expect from a bunch of Romans?" said Lancelot in a loud voice that carried across the courtyards and earned him more than a few dark glares which he ignored. He pointed his sword at Gawain. "So, are you going to fight me?"

"I would. But Bors is waiting for me at the tavern," said the blonde knight, snatching up his brother's tunic which had been tossed to the side when the sparring first started and which he now tossed back to Galahad.

"But it's just past noon," said Lancelot with an amused smile on his face.

"I know. I'm already late," said Gawain as he walked away, Galahad trailing moodily behind him.

Lancelot turned on the scout.

"What about you then?"

They seemed to fall into a staring match, each daring the other to be the first to look away. Finally, and very slowly, the ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of Tristan's lips; a smile that caused Lancelot to falter a bit and wonder just what exactly was going through the other knight's mind. Without taking his eyes off the curly haired knight, Tristan approached his opponent; catching the sword Lancelot tossed him. He weighed the weapon in his hand, tossing it from one to the other to try to get the feel of the foreign blade.

"Ready?" asked Lancelot, a brow raised challengingly.

All he got in reply was the scout slowly stalking towards him. Lancelot grinned. Sparring Tristan was always a challenge. And he liked challenges. They circled each other like he and Galahad had done. But instead of waiting for an opening, Tristan created one.

The scout brought his borrowed sword down on Lancelot's head and the knight raised his weapon to stop its downward arc. But before the weapons even touched each other, Tristan had already spun round, bringing his blade down for a blow to Lancelot's side, twisting his wrist so that it was the broad side of the sword that struck instead of the edge. Lancelot staggered back.

"Should've seen that coming," he muttered.

The knights circled each other again; Lancelot a little more on his guard, Tristan seemingly at ease. From time to time, one of them would move in to engage the other, a short and swift exchange that was hard to follow, before springing back again and once more prowling around each other; muscles relaxed but senses alert, ready to pounce at any moment.

"It seems like we have an audience," grunted Lancelot after one such attack from Tristan, the knight just starting to show his fatigue. Having not sparred anyone else, the scout however had barely broken a sweat.

Tristan spared a quick glance round the courtyard, spotting the young Lucius Aurelius almost immediately. That was not surprising; the youth had been shadowing Lancelot ever since they got back to the Wall. What was surprising, and made him pause a moment, was that he was accompanied by his sister. And since her handmaid had not left her side since she was returned to her family, Furia was there as well. Lucius had been watching the fighting intently. But Aurelia's attention seemed to be held by a pair of wrestling Romans in a neighbouring courtyard. Furia leaned in to whisper something in her ear that must have amused her because Aurelia burst out in unbridled laughter.

Tristan heard the sound of shifting sand and raised his sword just in time to deflect a blow from Lancelot.

"Distracted, Tristan?" laughed the knight.

It was hard to tell just what the scout was thinking. Then again, no one ever could really tell. The look in Tristan's eyes, however, spoke of danger and Lancelot wondered just what had gotten the other knight so annoyed. There followed a bout of intense sparring, with Tristan very clearly gaining the upper hand.

"Well, look at that," said Furia in a voice laced with amusement but just loud enough for her mistress to hear. "Your knight's beating the great Lancelot. And he didn't even have to take his shirt off."

The Briton had the pleasure of watching Aurelia blush prettily and she smiled a knowing smirk. But before she could remark on it, Lucius had turned to them.

"He's just tired from having fought Galahad before," said Lucius, making excuses for the man whom, for some strange reason unknown to either Furia or his sister, he looked up to. "If he wasn't, Lancelot would have defeated that other knight easily!"

Furia breathed an angry sigh of frustration.

"Enough, Lucius!" she snapped. The young man turned towards her, eyes wide in surprise at her outburst. "We're tired of hearing you talk about Lancelot again and again and again!"

Lucius frowned.

"Furia? What's gotten into you?"

"_Me?_" cried the woman, clearly incensed. "What's gotten into _you_?" She emphasised the word by jabbing his chest with her finger. "It's been '_Lancelot this_' and '_Lancelot that_' with you these past two days. Don't you think that just _maybe_ we're tired of hearing you talk about that man? Tired of hearing his name every _minute_! Aren't we, Aurelia? _Aurelia_?"

They turned around to find themselves very much alone. Some time during Furia's angry rant, Tristan had left the courtyard and was no longer in sight. Lancelot, having pulled his tunic back on, was just picking his swords back up. Furia was rather taken aback to see that instead of looking offended the knight was actually grinning as he walked away towards the baths. She knew that he obviously heard her for she had not bothered to lower her voice at all and she wondered what had gotten him so amused.

And as for Aurelia…she seemed to have vanished into thin air.

"Where's she gone to now?" groaned Lucius.

"Probably got tired of hearing you go on and on about Lancelot," retorted Furia.

"Well! You should have been keeping an eye on her!" cried Lucius, his confusion at Furia's anger turning into annoyance at his sister's disappearance.

Furia opened her mouth to throw back another biting remark but forced it down with a great amount of restraint. She knew Lucius; knew that if she were to continue arguing with him, he would not stop. Like his sister, he was stubborn. And so she would have to be the one to take the high road and back down.

"Well, it's no use us yelling at each other! We should look for her. She can't have gone too far."

--

It was the gentle neighing of the mare that drew her to it.

Aurelia had left Furia and her brother quarrelling with each other, smiling secretively as she walked away unnoticed. It was one of those rare times that she had seen Furia lose her temper and, though it was entertaining, she did not think the Briton would appreciate her laughter. She just hoped no one would take Furia to task for yelling at Lucius.

Having grown up together, the three of them were ridiculously close, despite the difference in social status and ages. Even then, Furia's recent short-temperedness at Lucius' sudden interest in Lancelot had Aurelia raising her brows suspiciously. She felt they needed some time, and space, to settle things between them and so had wandered off towards the public stables.

The mare was a beautiful speckled grey; well behaved and gentle natured. She also looked very familiar but Aurelia couldn't quite recall where she had seen the horse before. As the girl approached the stall in which the mare was housed, the creature whinnied softly, almost pitifully.

"What's wrong girl? Are you hungry, huh?" she cooed as she reached out a tentative hand for the horse to sniff. The mare rubbed her nose against her palm and then butted it gently, neighing again, accepting that the girl meant her no harm.

"Yes, you're a pretty girl, aren't you?" Aurelia whispered, running her hand up the equine's head and through her mane. The mare tossed her head in agreement. Aurelia laughed softly. She was just considering seeking out the stable master to ask permission to give the horse a good brushing down when a voice spoke up behind her, quiet yet chilling.

"What are you doing?"

Aurelia spun around, a guilty look on her face, gave a startled cry and jumped back, her hand flying to her wildly beating heart. Tristan stood behind her, no more than a foot away, his expression as unreadable as ever. A light sheen of sweat still shone on his brow and in his hand was a bucket of feed.

"I – um – you see I'm – well – what are _you_ doing?" she threw back.

"Feeding my horse."

She looked from the mare to Tristan and back again, frowning. The last she remembered of Tristan's horse was that it was the devil's own beast, tearing through the forests of Northern Britain with her clinging onto its back for dear life. She couldn't quite associate that beast with this gentle creature. But the longer she looked at the mare, the more certain she grew of its identity.

"Oh."

For the briefest of moments, Aurelia thought she saw the corner of Tristan's mouth twitch upwards, but if it did, it happened so fast that it might have never even happened at all. She moved aside to allow the scout access to his horse and watched with her usual fascination at his kindly treatment of his mare. She wondered if the knight only found it possible to care about things that couldn't talk back to him. The thought made her smile.

"You're staring." This time, even though his back was to her, she was sure the scout was smirking. "Again."

"Am not!" the girl protested.

Tristan turned to look at her over his shoulder and though his expression remained impassive, Aurelia knew he didn't believe her.

"If you say so," he said in a flat voice.

Silence descended over the pair as they watched the dappled grey greedily devour the feed that was in the bucket. The stables were silent except for the grinding of oats between teeth. There wasn't even a stable boy in sight. And so when Tristan next spoke, his voice seemed unnaturally loud and caused Aurelia to jump in fright.

"Your horse; why is it you call it 'Dice'?"

"Her," said Aurelia with a cheeky grin, adopting the same offended attitude Tristan had when she first questioned him about his hawk.

"Her," conceded the scout with a strange glint in his eye.

Aurelia's grin transformed into a triumphant smirk.

"She was a gift; from my brother," she said with a hint of pride in her voice, leaning back against the door of a neighbouring stall. "Won her off a centurion in a game of dice."

"Your brother?"

His tone of voice set Aurelia immediately on edge. She wondered if he meant to say anything else but he had turned back to the care of his mare, picking up a brush that had been precariously balanced on the dividing wall of another stall and entering that of his steed. Tristan had seemed to accept the fact that she was not about to go anywhere and made no comment as she moved closer, setting her arms on the door of his stall and resting her head on them, an unconscious act it seemed, and continued to watch him as he brushed down his horse. A frown marred Aurelia's brow as a curious thought occurred to her.

"Why is she here? Your horse I mean. I would think you'd house her in Arthur's stables."

"Usually." He reluctantly explained himself at her inquiring look. "With your family's horses there and those of the Senator, it's a bit crowded." The sarcasm in his voice was biting. The scout jerked his head at a dark coloured equine a few stalls down to his right. "He's Lancelot's." He pointed out another horse with a slight nod. "Bors'. And you'd recognise Galahad's."

Aurelia had indeed noticed the familiar grey, almost white, stallion in the stall directly opposite that of Tristan's mare. She lifted her head now and turned, leaning back in a most un-ladylike slouch, to observe the mount. He seemed to realise he was being watched and tossed his head proudly with a loud snort. The young Roman smiled at the horse's antics.

"Well, I apologise for inconveniencing you. And the others. Never meant to be so much trouble."

The scout made no reply to this. But Aurelia hadn't really expected one.

Galahad's steed stomped the ground restlessly. It seemed that with her attention on him, he was taking the opportunity to voice his displeasure at being cooped up in the public stables. She felt the urge to let him out of his stall and take him for a turn round the yard in front of the stables. But good sense told her that a simple trot round in circles on a lead was not going to appease the horse. He very well might take advantage of the fact that she had weaker arms than his master and she had not the slightest desire of telling Galahad that his horse had gotten loose whilst under her charge. In spite of the stallion's agitated movements, every flick of his head seemed graceful, every toss of his mane riveting, and put her in mind of something else she had seen.

She had tried to ignore the sparring match between Tristan and Lancelot that afternoon but it had been a struggle. It was the first time she had been able to actually observe any of the knights as they fought without having to worry that someone else was going to lob her head off. Even with the limited knowledge she had of swordsmanship, or any form of combat for that matter, she could tell that both men moved with deathly skill. It made her shiver at the realisation of how close to death she had been the very first time she came face to face with the Sarmatian scout. It had not occurred to her before but she knew now that if it had been any other man, any ordinary Roman legionnaire, her head would now be buried under leaves on the forest floor. It took a lot of control to stop his sword mid-strike like he did and she was aware that she was more than fortunate to walk away with only a small nick on her neck. Aurelia touched the faint scar absentmindedly.

There was something that bothered her though. Tristan was a highly skilled fighter; that was obvious, and he moved with the grace of a natural born predator. But there were moments during his fight with Lancelot where Aurelia felt he acted with a certain recklessness that as uncalled for. If she could describe it, she would say it was a stubbornness to walk away from the fight. There was a light in his eyes as well, so focused on nothing else except his opponent it seemed. _Bloodlust_ – it was like a punch to the gut but Aurelia knew that was what she had seen in his eyes. Tristan seemed to draw satisfaction from toeing the fragile line between life and death.

Aurelia shook her head, trying to clear it of any thoughts of the scout. But in trying to empty her mind of what she thought to be an unwelcome distraction, she left herself open to assault from other worries she had been avoiding. Her thoughts had wondered far from the stables by now and she no longer really saw the horse in front of her. The girl laughed a distracted, mirthless laugh.

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't," she said under her breath. Tristan made no sign of having heard her but carried on with his brushing. Aurelia continued, absent-mindedly. "What do you do…if you knew someone else's life hung on a decision you would have to make? A life for a life."

The sound of the steady brushing ceased abruptly. But Aurelia did not notice it.

"Always knew something wasn't quite right. Lucius hates Rome. Mother absolutely refuses to talk about the city. Father just smiles and shakes his head. The world's most brilliant minds, all in one place, and it's still all…wrong."

Aurelia was sinking into her black and turbid thoughts when the door behind her suddenly swung back. She appeared to float for a moment before falling back, bracing herself for the impact against the ground. But there was no pain; no bone jarring collision against unyielding earth. Instead, a pair of strong arms caught her. Startled grey eyes stared, not quite comprehendingly, into dark ones.

"I've found," began Tristan in a low, rumbling voice that swept through the girl like a hurricane at sea, "that there is usually someone you can kill to solve a problem like this."

Aurelia shivered involuntarily. And then her brows furrowed in anger. She pushed him away, violently.

"Is that your solution to _everything_? Kill someone and it will all be all right!"

Tristan shrugged. There was an unfamiliar look on his face, one she had never seen before. Then again his range of expressions could be counted on the fingers of one hand, even if that hand were missing a few digits.

"Well, I like to think my problems can be solved without any unnecessary death, thank you very much! And why the _hell_ would you open the door when I was still leaning against it?"

Aurelia resembled a harpy with her eyes burning dangerously and her hair flying about her in her anger. The expression on her face would have frightened any lesser man. The scout snorted.

"Stop lying to yourself."

It took a while for Aurelia to understand what he had said.

"_What?_"

"You would like to wring that man's neck as much as any of us. I can see it in your eyes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," snapped the girl.

"That Roman Senator. He's what's troubling you."

It was a confident statement that had Aurelia flushing red. She had a stinging retort ready on her lips but the arrival of her brother and Furia curbed her outburst.

"Aurelia! We've been looking for you everywhere!"

Lucius started towards her but Furia's arm stopped him. It was only then that he noticed his sister was not alone in the stables. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Aurelia?"

The young Roman turned at the sound of her name, seeing two recognisable figures silhouetted in the entrance of the stables. She threw one last glare back at Tristan, but a thoughtfulness that had crept into the look quite ruined the effect.

"Sir Tristan," Aurelia said in mock demureness, her tone of voice agonisingly polite as she excused herself.

"My lady," grunted the knight, inclining his head respectfully, keeping it down as she walked past him towards her brother and her handmaid.

Upon reaching them, the young Lucius Aurelius immediately hurried her away from the stables. Tristan would have returned his attention to his mare then but he noticed that the Briton had yet to leave. The woman regarded him with a penetrating, almost questioning, gaze.

"Are you here to warn me as well?"

Furia tilted her head to the side, a small but amused smile on her face.

"No, Sir Knight. Should I be warning you against something?"

The look on the scout's face was as ambiguous as it ever was. He grounded out a vague sound, halfway between a snort and a growl, before turning his back on the handmaid, walking back into his horse's stall. He bent down to pick up the feed bucket, and as he did so, heard her speak.

"Well then, I shall bid you good day, Sir Knight, and wish you the happiness of your upcoming discharge from Roman rule. Maybe once you have your papers you'll be ready to face your heart."

Tristan straightened at that, shooting up like lightning, only in reverse. But Furia had already disappeared; leaving the knight to scowl at the empty spot she had been standing in.

--

A cold wind blew through the city at Hadrian's Wall that night, signalling the onset of winter. The villages further up north of the wall had already received their first snowfall but the inhabitants of the city were blissfully unaware of this. Nor did they care.

The taverns were full to bursting with their usual customers and almost every home had a fire roaring on the hearth. An inconspicuous figure navigated its way through the streets, deftly avoiding the surprising number of people out despite the chill.

Aurelia pulled her cloak tighter around her. In spite of her calm demeanour, her thoughts were in turmoil. The girl would have never admitted it out loud, but her conversation with Tristan that afternoon had planted the seeds of a dangerous idea in her mind; an idea that frightened and shamed her at the same time. An idea she did not dare share even with Furia for fear of what she would see in her friend's eyes. An idea that, throughout the day, culminated to such a point that she felt as if it were the only possible solution to her problems. And so she had goaded Lucius into talking of Lancelot in Furia's presence, knowing full well that an argument would break out between the two, and when it had, she snuck off in search of what she would need to see her idea to fruition. A small, unassuming cloth bag hung from a belt around her waist, its contents seemingly harmless but in her knowledgeable hands, they were the weapons with which she would fight for her freedom.

The young Roman marvelled at her own nerve, noting that the time spent with the Woads and Sarmatians had taught her new skills; she was stronger mentally, if not so much emotionally, and untruths jumped readily to her lips, words she could use to hide her true thoughts and feelings; even from herself. Aurelia was not quite sure she was growing in a healthy direction but for now, what she had learnt in the forests of Britain served her well.

No one stopped her or asked her where she was going. She walked with a purpose that lent her a sense of inapproachability until she reached a tavern and heard a familiar laugh. A sharp fear gripped her as she ducked into a small, dark street; her heart wildly hammering against her ribs as she wondered if he saw her. Forcing herself to calm down, the girl edged her way to the entrance of the street, peeking round the corner of the building that formed the mouth of the alley. And breathed a sigh of relief. He had not seen her.

Aurelia frowned now as she contemplated the possibilities of going past the tavern without him noticing her. She was still running several possible escape routes through her head when she felt the sudden presence behind her, ominous and lurking. Muscles tensed warily as Aurelia realised that the person was making no attempt to walk pass her. Whomever it was seemed content simply watching her. She clenched her fists, no longer paying attention to the goings on in the tavern but all her senses alert and trained on the stranger behind her. The feeling of being trapped; cornered; fuelled by her fear of the discovery of her daring plans, overwhelmed her and all she could think about was getting away; far away. The girl moved fast, desperately almost, swinging round and aiming the back of her hand at the stranger's head.

But he was faster. The grip around her wrist was strong, stopping her arm short. Her leg flew up instinctively; her knee intended for a delicate spot. But he stopped that too. The stranger leaned in closer then, presenting a threatening appearance in the way he towered over her small frame, backing her up against the cool wall of the building she had been hiding behind.

"You've been in the forest."

Aurelia relaxed, though only slightly, recognising the voice.

"Do you make it a habit to creep up on everyone?"

A rare, almost imperceptible smile graced Tristan's lips. The sparse light in the narrow street threw long shadows across his face and he seemed to emit something…wild. Aurelia had to forcefully check the shiver that threatened to crawl down her spine.

"It's what I do."

"Right," said Aurelia, feeling rather stupid. "Scout." She frowned. "Were you following me?"

Tristan moved closer until his face was a mere hair's breadth away from hers, his warm breath dancing across her cheek. Aurelia felt her breath catch in her throat as a surprising thought flitted through her mind. A part of her wondered if he was about to kiss her again, wanted him to kiss her again. This revelation scared her and she backed further into the wall, not that there was much more space to move into. His fingers brushed against her skin as he plucked out a small, yellow leaf from her hair and rolled it between his fingers.

"You smell like the forest." He was so close; his face almost buried in her dark locks. "Not like before." He inhaled deeply. "Too sweet." His lips mouthed the words into her ear. "Like burnt sugar."

Aurelia blushed.

"Mother insisted Furia perfumed my hair," she muttered, unsure as to why it embarrassed her to admit this to the knight.

"Do you always listen to your mother?"

"Well – I – " Aurelia pushed off the wall, feeling the need to quickly place some distance between herself and the scout. "How did you know I was here?"

Tristan was looking down at the leaf in his hand, as if he could tell exactly where in the forest Aurelia had been just from that tiny piece of evidence alone. Aurelia wouldn't have been surprised if he did. She realised that this was the second time that day that she was having an actual conversation with the enigmatic scout and wondered if the man had ever spoken so many words in one day; feeling an odd sense of pride at having engaged his attentions so.

"You're not as invisible as you would like to believe," said the knight finally, flicking the leaf away.

His eyes trailed up her form, lingering a while at her waist. Aurelia shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She was almost certain Tristan knew just exactly what was in the drawstring bag on her belt. He walked past her and gave the street outside the alley a careless glance. He spotted the tavern, more specifically, the person inside it, immediately.

"You're hiding from your brother?" Tristan lifted a brow at that, clearly amused.

Aurelia felt her cheeks colour again.

"I – I'm…not…not really."

The scout gave a disbelieving scoff. He turned back towards the tavern, appearing to be thinking something over. After a while, he looked over his shoulder at her, a curious glint in his eyes. Aurelia frowned.

"Have you been drinking?" she blurted out, hands flying to cover her mouth almost instantaneously. Her expression was one of absolute horror.

The look Tristan gave her was hard to decipher at first. Having experienced the brunt of his anger before, for a fleeting moment Aurelia girded herself for a physical strike from the knight. But then he chuckled.

Aurelia stared at him incredulously. She had never heard Tristan laugh before. The only signs of amusement he had ever seemed to show were either mocking or wry. But this was neither. This was pleasant. And if she were to admit the truth to herself, it was more than pleasant but she reluctantly banished such thoughts from her head, telling herself that they were very improper.

"Perhaps I have," he said at last.

"Oh…Right…Well, there's nothing wrong with that. Perfectly normal to. Yes…"

Aurelia was glad for the lack of light in the alley. She winced as the clumsy words spilled out of her mouth, tripping over her tongue as they did so. She had noticed that this seemed to be happening more often, especially in the presence of the cryptic scout.

Tristan smirked lopsidedly.

"So…you're trying to get back to the domus without your brother seeing you."

As always, it was not a question. Aurelia sighed.

"Yes," she reluctantly admitted.

"Well…far be it for me to leave a damsel in distress." And then Tristan's eyes narrowed but his tone of voice did not change. "What kind of knight would I be if I did?"

Aurelia unconsciously took a small step back. She remembered clearly the first time she had ever spoken to Tristan; it had been their very first argument as well. She had used similar words to impinge on his honour; had claimed that no knight would have killed a defenceless woman like Mair, even if she was a Woad. She had been almost certain then that he would have killed her. And even though she knew Tristan was not drunk, and had actually been somewhat pleased that the wine had made him a bit more talkative, she could not help but have a lingering worry that even the slightest intake of alcohol might take away his control over his already perpetual simmering anger. But if she had hoped her movement had gone unnoticed, she should have known better.

"Where are you going, Aurelia?" His voice was quiet yet clearly audible. His hair had fallen to cover his eyes so that he struck an intimidating figure.

They stood staring at each other. Aurelia knew it was silly of her to have thought Tristan would harm her. If he wanted to, he would have done so ages ago. Yet she also knew it would be ludicrously naïve of her to feel completely safe in his company. Safe was not even a word anyone in his or her right mind would ever use to describe the man.

The silence stretched between them, yet it seemed to help Aurelia sort out her tumultuous thoughts. She almost felt as if the scout was giving her time to calm herself down. And though he appeared as passive as he always was, the young Roman could practically feel something in the air shifting. Tristan took a deliberate step towards her. Aurelia stood her ground.

"Come."

She looked down at the hand he held out towards her, an invitation to something she did not even dare think of. She knew accepting it would change so many things. Yet it seemed to promise so much more.

Tristan waited patiently for Aurelia to make her decision. The dark made it impossible for her to make out his eyes but Aurelia did not feel pressure from him to make her lean one way or the other. She almost wished he would. Aurelia looked down at his hand again, still outstretched and held steady.

She took a deep breath.

And placed her hand in his.

--

**A/N: Before I talk about anything else I want to address this first. I KNOW Tristan seems a little OOC in this chapter but I have tried to make sure it is not overly so. Went back through and deleted a lot of his lines. And, as it has been pointed out to me before, some of you might not agree on how I've portrayed Tristan's fighting style or his thoughts during a fight. But I've written him like that FOR A REASON. Just thought you guys should know.**

**Hmm…anything else? Oh yeah, I sort of abused the italics in this. But some words just need to be stressed. Nothing else really to say about this chapter. Except that a military amphitheatre or a 'ludi' I think it's called were usually built near forts or fortresses to serve as training grounds for soldiers. **

**The next story I'll be posting after 'Across The Mountains' is done will either be my Underworld fic or the Covenant one. Look at my profile for updates on that. I also post rather frequent updates on there on chapter progress. So if you're wondering how the next chapter's going, check there and it should give you a general idea of when it should be posted. If I have writer's block and it'll take a while for the chapter to come out, I'll post a notice there too. But before that I plan to take a hiatus. I'd like to work on other things and hopefully I'll be in school. Yay! -waves little flags-**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys make me so happy -smiles giddily- Here comes another list: **_**Greendoggie**_**, **_**Soccer-Bitch**_**, **_**ChloeDancer1015**_**, **_**grae**_**, **_**st.elmo-lover**_**, **_**Adamantien**_**, **_**peachpaige**_**, **_**neelaplushenko**_**, **_**JBugJ**_** and **_**Emili**_**. I've tried to reply to everyone who reviewed and I'm sorry if I've missed anyone out. I couldn't reply to those who didn't sign in though because I'm not sure how. But I still appreciate your reviews! Thanks! We might actually get past a 100 reviews by the end of this story. Yayness!**

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Not as long as the last one but heck! The last one was insane! TA TA my lovelies!**

**- Scribbles**


	13. Chapter XII

**A/N:**** There's a poll up on my profile regarding the next story I should post after this one. If you guys want to read another story from me GO VOTE!**

**Gosh! I'm so sorry for the late update! So many things happened and stuff but to sum it up; I got into the arts college, my brother graduated from officer training (he's doing compulsory National Service, if I haven't mentioned that before), one of my scholarship applications got turned down and I need to come up with a huge sum of money in a very short amount of time -insert panicked scream here- EDIT: All right, money problem solved! I have such an awesome uncle -grins-**

**Oh! And HAPPY BELATED FATHER'S DAY!**

**EDIT 2: As you can see, this chapter's been sitting half completed on my laptop for about a year. I didn't mean to leave you guys hanging like that but school took over my life. It's just insane. And I'm really sorry. I'm still recovering from that break we were supposed to have mid-semester but never did…**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur. I DO however own everything else.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter XII**

Moonlight shone down on the city at Hadrian's Wall, lighting the path for two figures making their way across the battlements. One moved with an unnatural finesse whilst the other paused every now and then, staring in wonder at sights that caught its eye. Roman legionnaires standing their watch seemed to glower in disapproval as the pair walked past them.

Aurelia's hand felt small and fragile in his; smooth in such a way that Tristan knew she had not known a day's hard work in her entire life; and, though he betrayed none of his thoughts in his expression, Tristan wondered if the wine really had gone to his head.

The scout did not quite understand what had happened that day. It was not just in the alley. He had been aware of it in the stables too. And not understanding what that 'it' was infuriated him. Tristan knew it was not the way the girl looked; she was no rare beauty. It could not be her manner or grace either for they seemed to argue every time she opened her mouth and she tripped over her own feet at times. Yet here he was, holding her hand in the dark and helping her avoid her brother. And he had not even been ordered to.

_Let her go_; that was what the old witch had said. Was this what she meant?

_Maybe once you have your papers you'll be ready to face your heart…_

Tristan scowled.

Gah, Britons! Who needed them!

---

Aurelia kept her eyes riveted on the flickering torches that lit the city below, trying her best not to think about the hand holding hers.

It was large, the skin rough and calloused. They were hands used to difficult labour. And yet she had seen those same hands caringly stroke a hawk and gently tend to a horse. They were hands much acquainted with the art of war and yet they knew how to love as well.

Her feet faltered at the thought and Tristan turned to look at her. Though he said nothing, his eyes seemed to ask if she was all right. Aurelia quickly turned her head to the night sky instead.

"Is it not beautiful?" she asked, her voice falsely bright.

The knight's eyes seemed to bore into her and Aurelia instantly knew he saw through her weak diversion tactics. Just when the girl was sure he would burn a hole right through her, Tristan averted his gaze.

"The moon?"

"I was talking about the stars actually," said Aurelia. "But the moon is rather magnificent. Though I prefer it full. Don't you?"

Tristan made a gruff, non-committal noise in the back of his throat.

Aurelia sighed, watching the scout out of the corner of her eyes.

"Why did I even bother?" she muttered to herself.

The young Roman felt a tug at her hand; the scout was already moving on. She followed him silently, trailing a few steps behind. As they reached one of the numerous stairways that led down to the city, they were met with two legionaries, on their way to take their turn at guard duty on the battlements. They seemed to pause slightly at the sight of a Sarmatian knight escorting a young, un-chaperoned Roman lady in the middle on the night but recalled their manners in time to incline their heads respectfully at Aurelia. They ignored Tristan.

"Damn pagans rising above their place. Country's going to fall to ruins once Rome's gone." The soldiers' barely concealed voices reached their ears long after they had moved on. Aurelia kept her head down, afraid to meet Tristan's eyes.

It was not long before they arrived at another stone stairway.

"It leads down to a street near Arthur's domus," said Tristan in his brusque voice. "You should be able to find your way from there."

He made to turn around but Aurelia reached out a hand to stop him.

"Wait! I – Thank you," she said meekly, quivering under Tristan's unwavering stare.

The scout gave her a curt nod and was about to take his leave once more when he was stopped again; this time by a shrill cry overhead. Tristan frowned slightly but held his arm out as the familiar hawk swooped in for a landing. He ran the back of his finger down the bird's downy feathered breast, ignoring the slight pain flaring up in his arm where the hawk's talons pierced through the sleeve of his tunic.

"Where've you been so late, hmm?" he asked the hawk in soft, tender tones.

Aurelia smiled to herself as she watched Tristan. She was standing so close she could reach out and touch the bird if she wanted to.

"Can I touch her?"

Tristan gave her a questioning look that lingered but then nodded an almost imperceptible nod. He cooed to the hawk, praising the bird in soft, soothing tones.

"Your hand."

Aurelia reached out tentatively and almost snatched her hand back when Tristan wrapped his around her wrist. His grip was firm but gentle, bringing her hand steadily closer to the hawk, so as not to startle the bird, whilst he continued his one-sided conversation with her.

"Yes, you're a pretty thing, aren't you?"

When her hand finally touched the hawk, Aurelia let out a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. The bird was softer than she had expected. The feathers on her wings were smooth like a good wine whilst those covering her breast felt like tufts of hair on a baby's head.

"She's beautiful," Aurelia breathed in awe.

For a moment, the scout seemed surprised and then – pride shone in his eyes; pride not for himself but for the hawk. Aurelia smiled to herself. Had no one ever shown interest in something he liked before?

"How did you come by her?" she asked, speaking in hushed tones, feeling that anything louder would scare the hawk away.

The corners of Tristan's lips lifted, just ever so slightly, as he gazed fondly at the bird.

"Raised her as a fledgling. Found her with a broken leg and an arrow through her wing."

"How horrible. Poor girl."

Aurelia was just running her hand down the hawk's back when the bird suddenly took flight with a loud piercing screech, leaving a few feathers in her wake. The young Roman gave a startled cry and snatched her hand back, breathing hard at the sudden shock and worried that she might have done something wrong. But Tristan did not look angry with her. His eyes followed the bird as she soared higher and higher until she was swallowed by the dark. A feather floated down to land in his hair.

It was then that Aurelia realised how closely they were standing. Tristan still had his eyes trained on the last spot that the hawk had been in; deep in thought it seemed, and Aurelia couldn't help but think that the moonlight picked out his features quite nicely. She reached up for the feather unthinkingly. It was perfect – a feather from the hawk's wing.

Aurelia looked up, and almost jumped back, surprised to find the knight's eyes were now affixed on her. There was something in them, an intensity that held her in a trance and made it almost impossible for her to look away.

It was a whimsical idea; something that she probably would not have done had she properly thought it over. She moved that one step closer, closing the distance between them. Her hands seemed to move on their own accord, carefully weaving the hollow shaft of the feather into one of his braids, and then she smiled a silly little smile.

Tristan had stood completely still the entire while, his expression indecipherable. Aurelia's smile faltered. Had she been too bold? Now that she thought of it, her actions seemed terribly forward – blushingly intimate.

"Well!" she said, her voice sounding treacherously higher in pitch even to her own ears. "I should…go now."

Without waiting for the scout to say anything, not that she thought he would, Aurelia hurried down the stone stairs, lifting her skirts almost scandalously high in her haste. Once the girl was sure she was out of the knight's sight, she broke into a run and did not stop running until she was safely within her room. She slumped back against the door, groaning as she tried to catch her breath. What had she done? Catching sight of herself in her mirror, Aurelia paused.

A short, thin girl stared back at her. Dark hair framed a pale face that had nothing remarkable to boast of. And though the eyes were a rather unusual shade, they were just a little too big, making the girl seem even more childlike.

Aurelia frowned.

What man would fall in love with a girl like that?

She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the sudden realization. Groaning again, she let her head fall back against the door with a painful THUD – over and over and over again.

"You." Thud. "Are." _Thud_. "So." _**Thud**_. "Stupid!"

---

For once, Tristan paid no attention to his surroundings. His every instinct screamed at his foolishness; all these years, ever since the day he started his training as a knight, it had constantly been ingrained into him; always been on your guard. Constant vigilance. And yet, strangely, the scout could not bring himself to care. It was not a pleasant feeling.

Lost in his thoughts, his feet carried him back to the very same tavern that he had helped the Roman avoid. _Aurelia_, a previously unheard of voice in his head corrected him, _the girl's name is Aurelia_.

"Tristan!" Bors' voice boomed loudly, albeit a little bit slurred, across the crowded tavern courtyard. "Where've you been? You're missing out on all the fun!"

The fun it seemed was a game of dice with some Roman soldiers who were losing horribly. Seated at the same makeshift game table was the young Lucius Aurelius, very obviously not sober, though he was fairing a lot better than the legionnaires. And then there was Lancelot, with his provoking smirk plastered on his face.

"You may want to quit before you lose the next three month's wages as well," he drawled, hunched over on his stool in that cocksure manner he always seemed to ooze.

One of the legionnaires scowled uglily.

Lucius laughed.

"Keep your advice to yourself, Sir. I'm sure they can take care of themselves." And then he smirked as well. Lancelot was certainly rubbing off on the boy.

"Enough talk! It's you turn," growled the legionnaire seated to the right of the young Roman, pushing the wooden cup holding the dice towards the youth. Lucius picked up the wooden vessel, still smirking assuredly, gave it a good shake, and tossed the dice onto the tabletop. The smug look on his face grew even worse, if that was at all possible. Lancelot had definitely found a star pupil in the boy.

"Well look at that," said Lucius in a very credible Lancelot-esque drawl. "I do believe I win."

"CHEAT!" roared the legionnaire.

"What did you say?" asked Lancelot in a dangerously even voice, his eyes narrowed.

"You heard me!" shouted the Roman soldier. "The boy's a dirty, cheating rat!" And then he added, almost as a careless afterthought, but with enough inflection in his voice to show it was intentional. "And so are you!"

"I dare you to say that again!" challenged Lucius, his face growing red.

The men seemed ready to leap out of their chairs at each other. A wickedly sharp blade brought down right in the centre of one of the dice stalled the brawl that threatened to break out.

The Roman that had called Lucius out looked up to meet the cold eyes of the Sarmatian scout; a man rumoured to kill simply for the pleasure of it; a man who was not to be provoked or trifled with. The knight said nothing, yet his mere presence was a silent warning; a reminder that they were surrounded by other Sarmatian knights who had no qualms against seriously maiming a few Roman legionnaires.

"So…what were you saying again?" taunted Lancelot, his aggravating smirk once more in place, yet the furious gleam in his eyes had by no means dimmed. "I think he owes us an apology. Don't you, Lucius?"

But the young Aurelius was not paying any attention. Instead he was staring at the knife still sticking out of the dice.

"That's Aurelia's," he finally said, his voice oddly shaky, his eyes suddenly very lucid. An uncomfortable silence settled over the tavern; all eyes now on the humble blade.

It was indeed Aurelia's knife. The very same one she had surprised him with the first time they met. Tristan had claimed it as his own after knocking her unconscious that day. He had taken to carrying it around with him, using it mainly to slice his apples. He had also sharpened it regularly, keeping it as ridiculously sharp as Aurelia had.

"I gave that to her on her tenth birthday," said Lucius, the silence amplifying his voice. "She carved the hilt herself. A horse because she loves horses."

A horse? Tristan peered at the wooden hilt with mild interest. The girl obviously had little skill with carving. He wondered briefly if she had improved over the years.

"The Lady Aurelia? Is she not your sister, Sir?" asked the same legionnaire that had questioned Lucius' honour. Lucius cast him a wary gaze. The man turned to Tristan, a suspiciously curious look on his face. "Has she not been promised to my lord, the Senator?"

Though Tristan's face betrayed nothing, Lancelot noted a slight tension in his friend's shoulders. The curly haired knight regarded the legionaries seated at the table with renewed interest. So these were Senator Servilius' men? He snorted. Trust the Roman to surround himself with men as detestable as he was.

"How did you come to have the lady's blade in your possession?" asked the legionnaire innocently. The entire tavern seemed to wait with bated breath for the scout's answer.

"She dropped it," replied Tristan, his voice eerily even. "After a Woad attack."

Behind him, the knight could hear Gawain choking as he tried to smother a laugh. So he wasn't being completely truthful. But he hadn't lied either. He had just…omitted a few details. She _had_ dropped her knife after the Woad attack. Or rather, after _they_ had attack the Woads. It just wasn't _because_ of the Woads that she had dropped it.

Lucius seemed to shudder as he was reminded of how much danger his sister had been in. The forests of Northern Britain were a dangerous place for anyone not a Briton.

"Why have you not returned the blade to the Lady Aurelia? Surely she must be missing it." asked the Roman, pushing the matter. Lancelot wondered briefly if the man was suicidal.

"It slipped my mind," said Tristan simply.

Lucius stared at the scout incredulously. He was not sure if he should laugh or be angry. To see Tristan produce the knife had shocked him. Aurelia was very possessive of the small blade. Their mother had not been happy at Lucius' choice of a gift. Not happy at all. But Aurelia had stubbornly refused to give it up. To her it was a symbol of all the things people had told her she could not do; would never do; of all the goals she promised herself she would one day realise. At eighteen, she could read and write in Latin and Greek, and do more than just simple arithmetic. That was more than any other Roman girl her age could ever hope to achieve, noble or not. No, his sister would never have willing relinquished his present.

"Well, I might as well return it to her," said Lucius, eying the enigmatic scout as he reached out for the knife. But if he was expecting the knight to object, he was sorely disappointed. Tristan simply shrugged as the youth plucked the die off the tip of the blade. It came off with a sharp jerk, having been embedded quite deeply in the tiny wooden cube.

Having realised that he was not about to get a reaction from the Sarmatian scout, the troublemaking Roman turned his attentions back to Lucius. But before he could even think to utter a word, a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. Dagonet stared down at the soldier, a warning look on his face. The legionnaire scowled.

"Come on, men. We're leaving," growled the Roman.

"Stakes to rich for your blood?" sneered Lancelot.

The man looked as if he would bark an angry retort, and no doubt a fight would definitely have broken out then, but one look at the Sarmatian knights gathered there and he changed his mind. With one last black glower at Artorius' right hand man, the legionaries left the tavern. Lancelot grinned as he gathered his winnings off the table.

"Not a bad game, eh Lucius? How about you and I play one last round?"

But Lucius shook his head, no longer sharing in his hero's joviality.

"I should be heading back." He lifted the amphora he had been holding in one hand, took one last deep drink, and got up. The youth nodded curtly at Lancelot, somehow managing to include the rest of the knights in his silent goodbye, and left. His share of that night's winnings lay forgotten on the table.

"I don't think he likes you very much," said Lancelot conversationally, looking up at the scout. And then his brows creased in puzzlement. "When did you start wearing feathers in your hair?"

This of course drew the attention of their comrades and Tristan found himself under close scrutiny. Lancelot's lips twitched at the brief flash of irritation that crossed the scout's face but Tristan soon had his expression schooled to its usual unreadable state.

"It's a nice touch," said Gawain after a while. "Makes you look positively feral."

"Hmm, makes you look positively floofy," grunted Bors.

"Now you're just jealous," said the blonde haired knight with a good-natured grin, rubbing Bors' bald head.

"Next you're going to suggest that we all start wearing feathers in our hair!" exclaimed Bors, flinging one arm out wildly and spilling half the contents of the flagon in his hands on the rushes covering the tavern floor, whilst holding his other hand behind his head with his fingers outspread to resemble a feathery plume. But the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his merriment.

"Now there's a suggestion!" laughed Lancelot.

Galahad and Dagonet were the only ones not joining in the jesting. Whilst the younger knight bore an apprehensive look on his face, the gentle giant noted with some curiosity that Tristan appeared to have a rein on his temper. Then again, the scout hardly ever allowed anyone to see his true feelings, so for all he knew Tristan could very well have been seething inside. But for some inexplicable reason, Dagonet doubted this.

"Vanora!" Bors' voice once again boomed loudly across the tavern. The redheaded mother of the man's children glared at him over her shoulder as she served the customers at another table. "Another round!" he ordered, plopping himself down onto the chair Lucius had vacated. When the woman finally made her way to their table, Bors pulled her down onto his lap and stole a kiss. "Now Vanora, what do you think of that feather in Tristan's hair?"

Vanora was surprised that Tristan was even allowing her to scrutinise him. She was even more surprised to find that no one had had their throats slit yet. She knew the man was not one for fanciful fashions and so it would not have been likely that he had placed the feather in his own hair. Thus, she came to the conclusion that someone else must have done so. But she kept her suspicions to herself.

"It looks nice," was all she said. And then she pushed herself off Bors to go attend to another table, ignoring the man's protests. Or at least she tried to for the knight was making himself hard to ignore.

"Vanora! Let them tend to themselves! Come here, woman!"

"Vanora! I demand that you return to me now, woman!"

"Va - !"

Bors sputtered as he tried to wipe mead out of his eyes. Setting the empty flagon down on the table with a loud bang, Vanora began to chastise Bors on the importance of him not disturbing her while she worked.

"And furthermore! You can keep your questing hands to yourself…"

Tristan did not stay to listen to the rest of what Vanora had to say. Seeing the lovers' quarrel as a rather convenient distraction, he slipped unnoticed from the tavern. He needed to sort out his thoughts, thoughts that he had recently found to be rather disconcerting.

---

Aurelia fingered the string of her drawstring bag, the contents of which, if mixed correctly, could ensure her freedom. But what had appeared to be so simple before now seemed almost impossible. She knew that it was not in her to do it. She couldn't kill the Senator.

Angry with herself, the young Roman flung the small cloth bag across her room, not bothering to look where it fell.

Her eyes were rimmed red. She had cried after banging her head against her door; cried until all she had left were hoarse hiccups. And all the time, she couldn't quite find a reason for why she was weeping.

_Damn Senator!_

_Damn Tristan!_

_Damn…Men!_

"My lady…Aurelia…"

A quiet knock sounded and without waiting for an answer, Furia opened the door against which the young Roman was still leaning. The girl gave a startle yelp as she fell backwards and looked up at the bemused face of her maid and closest friend.

"Do I want to know why you're on the floor?"

"Well you're the one who opened the door," said Aurelia with a smile though it felt rather forced. And judging from the look on Furia's face, it looked it too. "Why aren't you asleep?" she blurted before the Briton could say anything.

"Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?" Furia seemed to have spotted something across the room for she stepped over Aurelia and through the doorway. "What's this?" she asked as she picked up the small cloth bag.

Aurelia scrambled up, eyes wide with dread. But Furia had been faster. She emptied the bag's contents onto the table in the room.

"Foxglove. Belladonna. Honey Flower." Furia muttered as she identified each poisonous plant.

"Furia, I – "

""Why don't you go see Dice?" said the Briton suddenly, cutting her off. "I don't think you've been to visit her all day."

"Furia – " Aurelia stopped, trying to find the words to explain herself. "I wasn't really going to…"

Furia smiled.

"I understand, Aurelia. Now go see Dice. And bring her an apple from the kitchens. She'd like that. Maybe then you'll be able to get some rest."

"Furia…"

"It's okay, Aurelia. Everything's going to be all right."

The Briton ushered her mistress out of the room and then closed the door on her before she could protest. Looking at the herbs on the table she knew Aurelia spoke the truth; the girl couldn't go through with poisoning the Senator.

Furia smiled a grim smile.

No, Aurelia couldn't go through with it.

But she could.

---

Aurelia wrapped her arms around herself. She hadn't had a chance to grab her cloak when Furia kicked her out of her room. She stood on the threshold of Arthur's domus now, looking up at the night sky. Dawn was just a few hours away.

The apples felt heavy in deep folds of the sleeve of her dress where she had secreted them. They were the freshest of the small batch she found in the kitchens. With winter fast approaching it wouldn't be long before Dice would have to settle for plain oats instead of sweet fruit.

With her thoughts occupied with what Furia was going to do with the herbs she had picked and her newly acknowledged feelings for a certain scout, it wasn't until she was halfway to Dice's stall that she realised she wasn't the only one in the stables.

"T-Tristan?"

The knight had been standing in front of Dice's stall, running his hand down the mare's sleek nose. And had obviously noticed her before she noticed him.

"Well, this seems familiar, huh?" said Aurelia with a nervous laugh. She thought she saw the corner of Tristan's lips quirk up slightly but then he turned away from her before she could be sure.

"Do you mind?"

Coming from him, it took the young Roman a while to realise that he was not asking her to leave but asking her permission to touch Dice.

"No! No, of course not."

For a moment, the girl stood transfixed, watching the silent scout caress her mare. And then Dice whinnied. And Tristan laughed.

It was a deliciously warm sound – undeniably male. Aurelia shivered involuntarily.

"I think she smells those apples."

Aurelia started. She didn't ask how he knew that she had brought apples but drew one out instead and after a slight hesitation, held it out to the knight. She couldn't read the expression behind his eyes. He looked first at the apple and then at her, locking her gaze with his. And then he reached for the fruit, his fingers brushing hers in the process. Dice took the apple from his hand trustingly.

"There's a good girl," Tristan murmured.

It was silent in the stables with the exception of the crunching as Dice chewed on her treat, adding to the palpable tension between the enigmatic knight and the young girl. Neither seemed willing to speak first, yet neither seemed all too comfortable with the silence either.

And then Aurelia was staring at a familiar sharp blade held in front of her face.

"I suppose I should return this to you."

"Um…Thank you…"

Another uncomfortable silence fell. Both of them kept their eyes fixed on Dice, Tristan grounded and undecipherable, and Aurelia shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her fingers danced across the small knife, switching it from hand to hand in an attempt to relieve her nerves. The difference in weight of her dress sleeves reminded her of the other apple she had hidden there. Pulling it out, she proceeded to cut the fruit in half and then held one of the halves out to Tristan. The scout accepted it with the slightest of smiles, though it was an amused one nonetheless.

"Couldn't sleep?" came Aurelia's quiet voice.

"You?"

The girl couldn't help the small twitch of her lips at his reply. It was so…Tristan. She really shouldn't have expected anything else.

"I'm…troubled," she replied, her voice self-deprecating. She took another bit of her apple half.

"Ah, the Roman."

"Hey, I'm a Roman too remember?" Aurelia retorted; attempting to keep her voice light, though the smile she tried to plaster on her face didn't last long. She looked down at her bit of fruit, turning it over in her hands. "I can't do it, Tristan."

The scout kept silent but he was no longer staring at the horse.

"I can't…I can't kill a man." The viciously dark eyes of the legionnaire she had slain in the forest flashed through her mind. "Not on purpose."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow at that but decided not to push the matter. At least, not then. Aurelia took an absentminded bite out of her half of the apple.

"I've thought about it," she admitted. "It wouldn't even be all that hard really. But…"

Aurelia lifted her piece of fruit up to her lips, thought better of it, and offered it to Dice instead. The buckskin mare accepted it greedily.

"I'm not strong enough, Tristan."

"No…" Aurelia looked up at the knight. "You're just a good person." He gave the girl a penetrating look before turning away to hold out what was left of his apple to Dice. "It's not a bad thing."

Aurelia didn't even bother hiding her surprise. This was _not_ what she expected from Tristan. He had been the one who'd suggested killing Senator Servilius.

"So I should just…accept my fate?"

"No."

The young girl stared at the Sarmatian.

"What are you doing here, Tristan?"

It was the first time Aurelia felt that Tristan was letting her see what he was feeling. And it scared her.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Aurelia tore her eyes away from the knight, looking at anything and everything except him. Dice turned from Tristan to nuzzle her mistress' shoulder. Aurelia brought her hand up, stroking the mare's head distractedly, a frown marring her features.

"I should go."

Yet she stood rooted to the spot, her hand the only part of her physically moving. She could feel Tristan's eyes on her but her legs refused to move.

"Aurelia."

It was no more than a harsh whisper, yet there was more emotion in that than she had ever seen from the scout. She couldn't turn around even if she wanted to. But Tristan took the choice right out her hands. Aurelia felt his hand wrap all the way around her wrist, felt him pull her towards him, felt his breath dance across her cheeks – and she still couldn't look at him. Her free hand flew up to his chest, partly to steady herself, partly to keep some distance between them.

"Aurelia."

She squeezed her eyes shut against his voice and realised for the first time that she was shaking.

"Tristan…please…"

Her voice was no louder than his, yet just as raw.

"Please…"

She felt his hands move up to her face, cupping her cheek.

"Look at me."

It wasn't what he had said that made her look up into his eyes. It was the way he had said it; the fact that, for the first time, he didn't sound undeniably sure of himself. It was a request, not a command. He had given her the option to run away if she so chose and looking up at him, she saw a flash of relief flit across his face.

"You…confuse me."

Tristan smiled at that, not mockingly or derisively, but an actual smile. Aurelia felt her breath hitch in her throat. She found her eyes drawn to his tattoos again, those strange markings that were almost mystic.

"Tristan."

He felt her lips move against his as she whispered his name. They were so close. There was so much each of them wanted to say yet neither knew how. And so he told her in the only way he could.

The kiss was nothing like their last. It was soft, gentle; almost tentative. And when they finally pulled away from each other, she was crying.

"I'm sorry," Aurelia said with a shaky laugh. "I don't know why I –" Tristan's hoarse voice cut her off.

"Don't."

His thumbs were moving across her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Her hands moved up to hold his.

"We shouldn't – "

The corners of his lips quirked upwards.

"I know."

"My parents – "

He was smiling now.

"I know."

"Senator Servilius…"

His smile grew wider.

"I know."

She stared searchingly into his dark eyes and felt a smile of her own spreading across her lips. His hands moved down to rest on her waist. Her arms reached up to circle around his neck. He trailed kisses along her jaw. She nipped lightly on his ear lobe. When their lips found each other again, they were more demanding. Searching. Desperate.

Dice whinnied, displeased at the lack of attention. But neither Tristan nor Aurelia heard her. In fact, they weren't very much aware of anything except each other. Not of the fact that a familiar hawk had settled in the rafters of the stable, a field mouse dangling from her sharp beak. Or that Dice had decided to settle in a nice hay filled corner since she wasn't getting another apple. Or that the sky was slowly getting lighter.

And they certainly didn't notice a shadow detach itself from the darkened doorway of the stables and creep back towards the domus.

---

**A/N:**** Finally. I'm really sorry about the long wait and hope this makes up for it. I've got a three month break now so hopefully I'll get this story done before I go back to school.**

**I'll admit that this isn't my favourite chapter but I guess it'll take a while to get back into the headspace of this story. Don't worry. I have ABSOLUTELY NO INTENTION of abandoning this story. I hate it when people do that.**

**Now, I have a little pressie for all you faithful readers and reviewers out there. I have a little deleted scene that I felt didn't really fit into this chapter. At least not at that particular point of the story where I had written it. Let me just say the scene is more Tristan/Aurelia-ness. About a page worth. If you're interested in the deleted scene, leave a review. I'm afraid you'll have to be signed in when you do that though so I can PM you. If you leave an anonymous review I really won't have any way of getting the deleted scene to you.**

**To those of you lovelies still reading this: thank you for not abandoning Aurelia and I. We appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to vote for the next story you want to read.**

**- Scribbles**


	14. Chapter XIII

**A/N:**** GO VOTE ON MY POLL!!!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed – both new readers and faithful fans of Tristan and Aurelia: **neelaplushenko**, **nada surf**, **xenocanaan**, **Winged Seraph**, **Quinn14**, **Lov3good**, **Lady of Lochaber** and **JBugJ**. This story's passed the big 100 mark! Thank you guys so much! I hope you guys liked the bonus, deleted scene. And everyone who added this story to their alerts list: you guys are awesome!**

**I was re-reading the last chapter and realised I made a bit of a boo boo. I may at some point go back and correct it once the story's complete but did anyone notice my mistake? And no, it wasn't a spelling or grammatical one, though I don't doubt there were plenty of those too.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing recognised as being from the movie, King Arthur. I DO however own everything else.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Chapter XIII**

The servant focused his gaze on his master's sandaled feet. Cicero had weighed his options before daring to disturb the Senator. The man scared him. His fear of what would happen to him if he had failed to report what he had seen far outweighed his concern for the young Roman girl. Yes, he feared for her life. But he valued his own even more.

"I did as you asked, Master," he grovelled, keeping his head lowered but peering up to see the powerful Roman's reaction from time to time. "Came straight here I did when I saw them. Thought you'd want to know."

Senator Servilius kept his back to his servant, fingering something on the table before him that Cicero couldn't quite see. The room was unnaturally dark. Cicero tried not to shiver.

"Did they see you?"

Gaius Servilius' voice sounded strange – ominous – in the dark. Cicero winced.

"I kept to the shadows, Master. But they weren't paying much attention to anything."

Cicero forced down the yelp that threatened to escape when he felt his master's hardened gaze fall on him.

"That's not what I asked."

Cicero licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt very dry and his could feel a bead of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose.

"N-n-no, Master. They didn't see me."

"Good."

The room fell silent except for the sounds of Cicero's heavy breathing and his nervous swallowing every now and then. The servant started to wonder if his master had forgotten about him. He risked raising his eyes, squinting to try to make out what exactly was on the table that held his master's attention so. The Senator seemed to be reading something, his lips moving but no sound was uttered. Cicero frowned. He thought he could make out something whitish on the table but in the dark he wasn't sure. They looked like – could it be? – were they pieces of bone?

"Has anyone seen you since we arrived here?"

The suddenness of the question seemed to magnify Gaius Servilius' voice and Cicero couldn't stop the startled cry that slipped from his lips.

"N-no, Master."

If the servant could have seen his master's face he would have turned around and ran; ran as fast as his legs could carry him; ran until his muscles gave out under him. And then he would have crawled. The Senator was smiling.

"Good."

There came the sound of a match being struck. In the brief flicker of light, Cicero made out something else on the table; a thick candle of the deepest shade of red he had ever seen. He watched as his master lit it.

Cicero fell to his knees, feeling his insides twist agonizingly. There was a sharp pull at his heart. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. He could taste the blood in his mouth and knew that he had soiled himself. And then…nothing.

---

The town was slowly awakening, and with it came a cacophony of sounds – the slush of chamber pots being emptied out on the streets; the clamour of hungry dogs fighting over last night's scraps; ill-tempered shopkeepers trading insults with each other. Somewhere a rooster crowed.

But in the stables of Roman cavalry commander Artorius Castus, seated atop a hay bale, fingers entwined, were a pair of young lovers, not-quite-so-blissfully unaware of the fact that they were bound to be discovered by a sleepy stable boy at some point or other. A look of quiet contemplation was on the face on the young female, whilst her partner's features were an unreadable mask. The only hint that all was not quite well with him was the small movement of his thumb, slowly dragging his nail in tiny circles just on the inside of her wrist.

Aurelia and Tristan had watched the sun rise through the open door of the stables. Neither spoke yet both were acutely aware of the thoughts running through the other's mind. Worry, confusion, steely determination; yet at no point had either felt the slightest tinge of regret.

Tristan finally looked up from where he had been staring at their hands for the past hour. One look at Aurelia's face told him all he need to know. He turned her hand over in his own, exploring her palm with his fingers, meticulously running them from the very tips of her fingers to where her wrist began, as if he were committing to memory every tiny fold and crease.

Aurelia smiled sadly as she watched him, knowing that he already knew her decision without her having to actually voice it. Part of her was silently raining colourful obscenities down on her parents, the Senator, and his wife whom she didn't quite trust, calling herself all kinds of stupid in the process. But another part of her, the part that was sensible and rational, knew that she could never really bring herself to be that selfish. Not when she knew what was at stake. She couldn't help but think how much Tristan resembled a sulking little boy at the moment, denied his favourite toy. The thought made her reach out and brush his tangled hair out of his eyes. His fingers stilled on her wrist. Aurelia vaguely wondered if Tristan could feel her pulse.

"You're going," he said.

The girl nodded, marvelling at how she had understood just what he meant even though the statement itself was ambiguous at best. Tristan's thumb resumed it's circling over the blue veins at her wrist.

"I could kill him," the Sarmatian offered hopefully.

The laugh this elicited made the man smile.

"Of course you could." Aurelia now took possession of Tristan's hands, looking down into his upturned palms. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "And then what? You would probably have to kill Lady Flavia as well to keep his death quiet. And the men he brought with him, both legionnaires and servants. Or the ones loyal to the Senator anyway. And all these mysterious deaths will no doubt rouse the suspicious of the Empire and you don't think they'll just let you get away with murdering Romans do you?"

"Point made," came Tristan's dry reply.

At the girl's next words, it was evident that she had given what she was about to say great thought.

"The Senator and his little retinue leave in four days." Aurelia's lips quirked into a knowing little smile. "Your papers arrive in five."

The corners of Tristan's lips twitched briefly.

"They can't really blame anyone if Senator Servilius' caravan happens to encounter, say a band of murderous thieves, or 'savage' Woads," was the young girl's reply to the knight's almost-smile. "My parents would have – " She hesitated slightly here, but only just for a moment. " – repaid their debt. And you and the others…would be free men."

Tristan had tensed at the word 'debt' but it was an almost imperceptible movement that Aurelia would not have noticed had she not been holding his hands. She couldn't help but find his concern for her endearing. She raised his left hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of his wrist; and felt him shake in silent laughter.

"The sacrificial lamb walking to her own slaughter."

Aurelia laughed and jabbed an accusing finger into Tristan's shoulder.

"Must you be so cynical about everything?"

Her only reply was a light kiss on the forehead. Followed by one on the tip of her nose. By the time Tristan reached her lips, Aurelia was grinning like an idiot.

---

To Aurelia, the next four days flew by unbelievably fast. To everyone else around her, the young girl seemed to have suddenly gained an unexplainable jaunty skip to her step.

Lucius was worried that his sister had finally lost her mind under the heavy pressure of the decision she was making. Lady Valeria was glad to see what she assumed was her daughter's acceptance of her duty to her family. Quintus Aurelius tried to ignore what he knew was the guilt he was feeling for bartering away the life of his youngest child. Furia kept her own theories to herself, preoccupied instead with her own plans for the days ahead.

But the members of the house of Aurelius were not the only people noticing the odd behaviour of the Lady Aurelia.

Arthur found himself spending more and more time talking to his God, his knowing eyes picking up the subtle nuances in the glances and painfully polite manner in which the Roman girl and his scout addressed each other whenever their paths crossed. The thoughts of the other Sarmatian knights ran the spectrum from puzzlement to concern. The fact that even Lancelot failed to find the situation highly amusing, spoke volumes.

And Aurelia wasn't the only one displaying unusual behaviour.

Tristan had suddenly become even more unpredictable, to the point where almost everyone, with the exception of Arthur and Dagonet, tried to avoid him when they could. He had already almost come to blows with two different legionnaires who, incidentally, were both under the command of the visiting Roman senator. The knight had also taken to disappearing regularly every night and returning in the early hours of the morning smelling strongly of horses.

Yet, with the numerous preparations required for the Senator's departure from Britain, no one had much time to spare to give their worries much thought. Carpenters and metalworkers collaborated on an elaborate bridal chest. Seamstresses worked day and night, putting together the young bride-to-be's new wardrobe. The fortunate women tasked with the creation of the actual bridal gown itself visited the ladies of the Aurelius household twice a day, laden with expensive fabrics and trims. For two hours everyday, Aurelia struggled to stand still as she was poked, prodded and measured. After which another hour was spent going through the clothing she already owned whilst her mother tried to determine if the colour and fabric were still fashionable back in Rome. By the second day, Aurelia was thoroughly sick of it all.

That night as Aurelia and Furia wrapped, folded and sorted the young Roman's belongings into the trunk she was taking with her, they were suddenly interrupted by Lucius' rather rude entrance into her room.

"Why are you going?" Lucius demanded.

Brother and sister stared at each other. Lucius looked almost half-crazed. Aurelia, in contrast, looked slightly startled, but calm. Furia ignored them both, picking up another dress that she then proceeded to fold.

"I just need to know," Lucius pleaded.

Aurelia picked up the palla she had dropped, shook it out, and re-folded the mantle, placing it into her trunk before she answered her brother.

"Have you been drinking again?"

Lucius opened his mouth as if to say something, which in all probability would have been a rude, angry retort, but then shut it firmly, his lips pressed together into a grim line. He caught sight of a leather pouch on the bed, small, painted stones spilling out from it.

"I remember these."

Aurelia smiled wistfully as she watched her brother pick up the stones, each of them varying in size but as close to a rounded shape as possible. They were playing pieces for a strategy game they used to play when they were younger; something Lucius had made up and taught her.

"Are you bringing these with you?"

Aurelia shrugged; an almost careless gesture.

"I thought maybe…you know…if I had children some day…I'd really like to teach it to them."

All this was delivered with her head bent, half her arm rummaging in her trunk. Lucius reddened at the mention of children but simply nodded and helped gather the pieces back into their pouch.

An amiable, albeit slightly nervous, silence fell over the trio; Lucius falling into helping his sister and childhood friend sort out the numerous sentimental knick-knacks Aurelia had managed to collect over the years, occasionally reminiscing over one particular item or other. Lucius had just recounted the rather raucous story connected to an unassuming length of leather from which a broken branch hung, which may at one time have been a slingshot, involving a thirteen-year-old Furia and a particular temperamental goat, when another silence fell. This time an air of expectancy settled over the three, almost as if they knew this was one of the last times they would ever be together.

Aurelia sighed.

"I'm going to miss this."

Lucius moved forward to hug her.

"I'm going to miss you."

"And if you two don't stop that, I'm going to cry," Furia protested, half in jest.

Aurelia laughed. She and Lucius shared a conspiratorial glance that Furia easily read.

"Um…if you're thinking of doing what I think you're thinking of doing – "

Furia never got to finish the threat she had planned for the siblings as they cut her off by pouncing on her and promptly tickling her sides. Laughter rang throughout the room, reverberating off the walls of the hallway outside as well.

Lady Valeria smiled to herself as she walked past her daughter's room. Laughter was not something commonly heard from her family these days. It took her another ten steps, however, before it occurred to her that not all the voices coming from Aurelia's bedroom were feminine in nature.

The knock on the door was enough to startle the three youths into silence and in an unusual moment of perceptiveness, Lucius realised that the presence of a male in a room with two unchaperoned young girls, even if one was his own sister, was not appropriate.

"Aurelia, dear?" called out Lady Valeria, giving her son enough warning to jump – well, it was more of a stumble and a messy roll really – behind the door and out of sight as it swung open, whilst Aurelia and Furia attempted to school their features into a picture of perfect innocence. "I thought I heard…"

"Yes, mother?" asked her daughter sweetly.

Lady Valeria frowned suspiciously as she took in the half-packed trunk, crumpled bedspread and various pieces of clothing scattered about the room.

"I thought I heard someone else in here." She gave Aurelia another hard, careful look. "Nevermind." An apologetic smile. For a moment, Aurelia thought her mother looked like she was about to cry.

"Mother?"

"It's nothing, dear. You just look so…" Lady Valeria smiled the smile of a proud parent. "…beautiful."

"Thank you, mother," said Aurelia, a quiet, embarrassed smile in her voice.

Lady Valeria shook herself from her misty, parental sentiments and turned to Furia, giving her a motherly smile.

"Would it be okay if I steal my daughter for a while?"

"Of course, my lady."

Aurelia obediently followed her mother out of her room, shooting Furia a puzzled look over her shoulder. Her maidservant and closest friend gave her a helpless shrug as mother and daughter disappeared round a corner. Furia then turned back to the packing that she was supposed to get done, picking up a crumpled dress.

"You can come out now."

Lucius peered sheepishly around the edge of the door. He pushed back the door and took in his sister's bedroom, seeing what his mother must have seen and felt a pang of relief for having the foresight to hide himself. He didn't remember them making that much of a mess.

"Do you need some help?" asked Lucius, addressing himself to Furia's feet as she was halfway beneath the bed, reaching for a stray bangle that had managed to roll under it. The boy could have sworn he felt her sardonic glare even through the wooden bad frame and straw pallet. As Furia crawled back out, Lucius offered her a hand off the floor.

"Does Aurelia know?"

The Briton paused in the act of picking up a discarded palla.

"No."

"You should tell her," said Lucius as he started picking up the different odds and ends that had managed to find their way to all corners of the room.

"And spoil the surprise?" The smile on Furia's face didn't quite reach her eyes and she knew Lucius hadn't missed it either.

"Just promise you'll take care of her."

"I always do."

Furia kept her head down, restoring her mistress' room into some semblance of order. And though Lucius had fallen silent and she couldn't hear him moving through the room, Furia was still acutely aware of his presence. It therefore came as a surprise to her to find him standing barely a hand's breadth away when she finally did look up. It was even more of a surprise when Lucius placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Don't forget to look after yourself."

Furia felt a shiver run down her spine. But by the time she'd finally gathered herself back together, she was the only one left in the room.

---

Tristan had a rare smile on his face as he left Arthur's stables early that morning. It may just have been the slightest twist of his mouth but it was a smile nonetheless. He had only taken three steps beyond the doors, however, when he felt a prickling on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him.

"Are you going to stand there all day?"

Tristan's voice was quiet, bordering on dangerous, but it was strong enough to reach the figure that'd pushed itself off of the wall of the domus in the shadows near the kitchen door.

"Nothing ever gets past you does it?" asked Galahad.

"What do you want?"

"I suppose I was thinking I was going to warn you," he indicated the stables with a jerk of his head, "but you know what you're playing with."

"I'm not _playing_ with anything." There was a definite bark to Tristan's voice this time.

"You know what I mean," Galahad shot back. He fixed a hard, probing look on his brother-in-arms. "The Senator's – "

"Do you actually think that _Senator_ gives a damn about her?" spat Tristan.

Galahad's lips were pressed in a harsh, thin line.

"No. But do you really think it'll make a difference? He's the kind of man who'd kill you just for looking at her and you know it."

Tristan did not ever deign that accusation with a bitter glare. Galahad had to break into a jog to catch up with his fellow knight as he stormed away.

"Tristan! You know I'm right! And after he kills you, he'll kill her as well. Just because he feels like it."

This managed to stop the scout. He whirled around so fast that Galahad barely had time to avoid the hand that shot out to grab at his throat.

"What do you want?" Tristan demanded as the younger knight danced out of reach.

"You're not the only one who cares for her!"

"Are you going to declare your undying love for her now?" laughed Tristan scornfully.

"Well, yes! I do love her!" shouted Galahad, jumping back abruptly as Tristan looked close to lunging at him. "Like a sister! The Lady – Aurelia's like family!"

"SHUT UP!" screamed a disgruntled woman; leaning out of the upstairs window of the house the two knights had ended up shouting in front of.

Deciding not to risk getting doused with the contents of the woman's chamberpot, Galahad careful moved out of range of the window, keeping an eye on both Tristan and the possible re-emergence of the woman's head. It vaguely occurred to him that Tristan had displayed an unusual amount of patience so far. Under normal circumstances, any man that dared to confront the dour knight would be sporting a bloody nose by this time. At least.

"I don't want to see her get hurt. And I know you probably won't mean it. But you will end up hurting her, Tristan."

Tristan narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Have you been talking to old Briton women?"

"Um…no," came Galahad's nonplussed reply.

"Tell me then, what all seeing power told you this?"

Galahad felt the first tinge of real fear. Tristan had sounded calm. His voice had been steadily rising in volume before. The sudden display of control was definitely one of his last warnings. But still he ploughed on.

"I didn't need anyone to tell me anything. It's who you are, Tristan. Aside from your hawk and your horse, have you _ever_ cared for another living thing? Another human being?"

An accusing finger almost poked the young knight's eye out.

"I've always had your back out there! You and the others! And you know that!"

"We've known you for fifteen years, Tristan! We've grown on you. In order to survive the Woads, we've had to learn to like each other. To trust each other. On the field and off. But tell me, Tristan, how well do you watch your own back out there?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You charge headfirst into a fight as if you were touched by the gods! You're fuelled by your anger and bloodlust. You're damn near reckless when you're on the field!"

"What has any of this got to do with Aurelia?"

Galahad was thrown for the second time in less than five minutes. He had never heard Tristan refer to the girl by her name before. But he quickly gathered his wits.

"You claim to have feelings for her but have you ever thought of what would happen to Aurelia if you got your head lobbed off? It's a part of you, Tristan. A bigger part than you've probably ever realised. A few weeks in the Northern Forests with a girl are not going to change that."

Galahad ran a hand through his hair, an act of frustration and exhaustion. He had sat outside the stables all night after following Tristan there.

"She's happy. I'm not going to deny that. Any idiot with eyes would have noticed it. She's practically been skipping everywhere these past two days. How do you think she's going to feel when you get yourself killed?"

Tristan had remained silent during Galahad's rant. His hair had fallen into his eyes making impossible for the younger knight to even attempt determining what was going through his head. Though Galahad couldn't help but notice that yet another feather had managed to weave its way into the scout's hair.

"We know what we're doing, Galahad."

Tristan had spoken in a voice barely above a whisper, and it scared the curly haired knight more than any other physical action he'd displayed so far. There had been more emotion in those simple words than he had ever heard Tristan display. Galahad's fear for both Tristan and Aurelia increased even more when Tristan raised his head enough to lock eyes with his fellow knight. It was a paralysing gaze that Galahad could not look away from even if he wanted to.

"I'm not giving her up."

Galahad felt himself rooted to the spot. He had not realised how deep Tristan's emotions for Aurelia ran and the apprehension he had originally felt for them changed to genuine, bloodcurdling terror. The young knight did not know why, but he did not have a good feeling about it.

Tristan knew better than to take Galahad's silence as acceptance of his claim on Aurelia. The scout could read the internal struggle that was taking place behind his eyes. He turned around before Galahad could find his ability of speech again. Therefore, Galahad couldn't have been certain if Tristan had spoken again. Maybe he'd simple thought he did. Imagined the uncertainty in Tristan's voice, as if the words were not only to reassure the younger knight but himself as well.

"I would never hurt her."

---

It was the day before Aurelia was to leave with the Senator and, incidentally, market day in the town at Hadrian's Wall. Farmers from neighbouring villages and further had travelled up to the town laden with poultry and cattle, dairy and produce, and accompanied by wives skilled in the arts of quilting, sewing, and various other textile crafts. Skilfully crafted earthenware pots and jugs, artfully weaved carpets and tapestries, exotically colourful leathers and ribbons brought up from the seaports down south – almost everything that could possibly capture the attention of a young girl was available for sale on market day.

"Oranges! Oranges for sale! Fresh from the Isle of Sicilia."

"Glass beads! Shiny glass beads crafted by the most talented glassblowers in the Veneto!"

"Dried dates! The best Persia has to offer!"

"A pretty necklace for a pretty lady!"

"'Scuse me, mum!"

This last was from an unkempt little boy with a runny nose, leading a rather obstinate mule carrying some rather agitated caged pheasants. Furia eyed the animals distrustfully.

"Thank ye, mum," said the boy respectfully, wiping his nose on his sleeve as Aurelia stepped out of his way, giving the donkey a wide berth. He then called his animal a word that Aurelia didn't think any child his age should have in their vocabulary, pulled hard on its reins, and proceeded to lead the stubborn creature further into the makeshift market that had sprung up in the town's high street.

"I love market day," sighed Aurelia.

"You've never been to a market," Furia pointed out.

"I know. But it's lovely all the same," declared Aurelia with a content smile on her face.

Aurelia watched as a young girl in blonde pigtails tried to pull her mother towards a stall that sold some pretty ribbons. The mother, though she was balancing a tiny baby on one hip, a full basket on another and had dark circles under her eyes, still managed to laugh good-naturedly, bade a hasty goodbye to the friend she had been talking to and allowed her daughter to drag her away. The child was enthralled by the ribbons fluttering in the slight breeze, a rainbow of fey like colours.

"They look so happy."

Furia shot a speculative glance at Aurelia, noticing the wishful tone in her voice.

"I'm hungry," the Briton blurted out in an attempt to distract her friend.

They purchased an orange that they shared between them, pausing every now and then at stalls that allowed the girls to sample some of their wares; tangy spices, juicy berries, fragrant herbs. Furia had bent over to take a closer look at the workmanship of a decorative embroidered border around the hem of a beautiful palla, when Aurelia suddenly felt an arm snake around her waist and pull her back behind one of the stalls. The scent of horses and the forest assailed her, quelling the struggle she was about to put up.

"Tristan?" whispered the young girl in disbelief.

Aurelia cast a quick look around trying to determine if they had been seen or not and couldn't help noticing that it was just like Tristan to somehow manage to find the only place in a busy marketplace where they were completely hidden from sight. The stall was a wobbly thing constructed of several old crates that smelt suspiciously of fish, and two planks of wood with a dirty blanket draped over it, displaying cheap metal trinkets. Aurelia smiled in amusement, noticing the self-satisfied boyish gleam in Tristan's eyes. It was a struggle for her not to break out in giddy, happy laughter.

"What are you doing?"

"I have a present."

Maybe it was the fact that they were in such a public place, running the risk of getting caught at any moment. Or maybe it was the ecstatic bliss bubbling up in her chest at his simple declaration, making her feel as if she could fly. Whatever it was, Aurelia leaned in impulsively and pressed a hungry kiss on Tristan's lips.

"I haven't given it to you yet," said the knight, clearly amused.

"I know," said Aurelia, her smile now a silly grin. "I'm just happy."

Tristan raised a questioning brow but Aurelia simply shrugged. They were hiding behind a market stall, half sitting on the filthy high street, cramped so close that bits of Tristan's armour were poking her in some rather uncomfortable places – and she was happy.

The sound of metal clinking against metal made the lovers peer around the stall. Two legionnaires were coming up the street. But that wasn't what caught their attention. It was the diminutive woman they flanked. Lady Flavia had decided to visit the market.

Tristan pressed something soft and silky into Aurelia's hand, closing her fingers around it. He cupped her cheek in his rough hands and kissed her soundly enough that her knees gave way. With a thoroughly pleased look on his face, the scout made his exit through the makeshift legs of a neighbouring stall. Breathing heavily, Aurelia looked down at the object in her hand.

The vivid red of the ribbon was a stark contrast against her pale skin. The large complicated knot filled the center of her palm. Aurelia smiled, feeling an undeniable warmth rising in her chest.

The Roman girl waited until Lady Flavia and her escorts had passed her before emerging from the stall.

"That could have ended badly."

Aurelia jumped in surprise, a startled cry escaping her lips before she could stop it. Furia raised a curious brow but said nothing. She linked her arms with Aurelia and led her towards a stall selling alluring fragrances. Aurelia absentmindedly allowed the shopkeeper to dab different scents on her wrists whilst Furia picked through sticks of sandalwood and cinnamon.

"So…" began Aurelia. But she couldn't quite think of what to say or how she should start explaining things. She knew Furia knew.

"So," echoed Furia with a mischievous smile, not about to make things easy for her mistress and friend.

"I was going to tell you…eventually," said Aurelia defensively.

"Before you leave tomorrow?" asked Furia, though it was evident that she was enjoying Aurelia's discomfort more than she was annoyed.

"No…before that. Maybe tonight."

"Ah. I see. Would that be before or after your little visit to the stables?"

Aurelia could practically feel her eyes threatening to bulge out of her head. Furia took one look at her friend and burst out laughing. Furia's amusement was contagious and Aurelia found herself smiling good-naturedly.

"How did you find out?"

The Briton tapped the side of her nose slyly.

"The servants know everything."

Aurelia started laughing at first, and then it occurred to her that maybe Furia was only speaking half in jest. If the servants really did know everything…

"You don't think…?" She trailed off, unwilling to voice her fears.

Furia's smile faded slightly.

"I think…you probably shouldn't go out tonight."

Aurelia grunted something non-committal. Furia thanked the shopkeeper, managing to drag the young Roman away without having the man pressure them into making a purchase. They wandered around the market for a while longer until Furia realised that Aurelia was now far too distracted to find much pleasure in the activity. Questions or comments garnered only vague, nonsensical replies and stops at exotic stalls no longer produced excited squeals.

"You really love him, don't you?" It was more of an observation than a question.

"What?" came Aurelia's abstracted reply.

Furia laughed.

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be this upset."

Aurelia's brows furrowed contemplatively. Did she love Tristan? She knew she liked him. She liked him _a lot_. But love? She had only known the man a little over two weeks. And they had spent half that time practically at each other's throats. But in a way, wasn't that a positive thing? For now that they knew what traits they found aggravating in each other, and could still tolerate one another in spite of them, they could now focus on the aspects of each other that they did like. Technically, their relationship could only grow stronger. Right?

Did she want their relationship to grow? She could answer that question with a definite yes. And after Tristan's little gift, she was sure he wanted the same thing. And they trusted each other. They'd never really talked about it, but they did trust each other. When she had voiced her plan that night in the stables, Tristan had agreed to it without asking any questions. He had trusted her judgement, trusted that she had run through all the possible scenarios and decided on the best one. And she trusted him to come after her. She had never had any doubts or questions about that.

So did she love him?

"I do," Aurelia whispered, a dizzy smile in her voice. "I love Tristan."

Furia nodded.

"So what's the plan?" The Briton rolled her eyes at the suspicious, and slightly astonished, look on Aurelia's face. "I highly doubt the man is the sort who'd let you go quietly. He seems like someone who'd be very, _very_ possessive. So…what's the plan?"

Aurelia noted, not for the first time, how highly perceptive Furia was, felt the barest tinge of envy, and told her friend the basic gist of their plan. Furia simply nodded again.

"You're crazy, you know? The both of you. But," she added as she saw Aurelia about to protest, "it's probably the best plan you have if you don't want to spend the rest of your lives running from the Empire."

Aurelia shook her head minutely, keeping a watchful eye on another pair of legionnaires marching closer and closer towards them. The young Roman released the nervous breath she had not realised she'd been holding when the men passed them. Now that she was aware that someone knew about her relationship with Tristan, even if that someone was Furia, it was hard not to be paranoid.

"Who else knows about us, do you think?"

"None of your family, not to worry. I believe Arthur knows. The other knights have their suspicions I suppose. Dagonet and Galahad would be the two perceptive enough to come to any accurate conclusion. But none of them would ever let word of your relationship reach the ears of the Senator. That's what worries you the most, isn't it?"

"He scares me," Aurelia admitted quietly. "I can't really explain it."

Furia squeezed her friend's hand reassuringly, eyes darkening as she recalled her clandestine meeting with the Senator's manservant.

"You don't have to." Deciding to draw Aurelia towards lighter thoughts, the Briton voiced a question she was admittedly slightly curious about. "So what _do_ the two of you get up to in the stables all night?" Furia smiled wickedly at the blush that crept all the way up to Aurelia's ears. "Ah, I see."

"No you don't!" protested the young girl. "I – we don't – haven't – Tristan's been perfectly chivalrous!"

"Of course he is," said Furia, a little too quickly for it to be absolutely sincere. Aurelia rolled her eyes. Furia smiled playfully. "I seem to recall something about 'The whore of Babylon'…"

"Furia! I didn't mean – " Aurelia crossed her arms, truthfully only mildly annoyed, as Furia erupted into laughter. She waited until the Briton had calmed down enough for the painful gasps to settle to controlled breathing again. "Ha ha," she deadpanned.

Furia whipped the tears from her eyes and shot Aurelia an apologetic smile. She took the time to recompose herself before she spoke again.

"So I shouldn't worry about you still being a maiden?" Furia asked jokingly.

"I am," said Aurelia dryly, though with yet another blush.

Furia nodded with the faint trace of a smile still on her face. Her eyes slid across to catch Aurelia's suspicious.

"But only just."

Aurelia turned even redder but eventually acknowledged shyly, "Only just."

Furia's smile widened. She linked her arm with Aurelia's once again, steering them back towards the domus. The pair spent the walk in comfortable camaraderie, pointing out some of the more colourful characters they passed in the marketplace. By the time they entered the courtyard the girls had a healthy colour about their cheeks brought on by their boisterous laughter. And then a harassed voice caught their attention – one of the seamstresses was leaning out of a window, pins and needles haphazardly stuck through the left side of the front of her dress.

"What did she say?" asked Aurelia, squinting as she concentrated on trying to understand the fast paced gush of words pouring out of the woman's mouth.

"I think she says your dress is ready," interpreted Furia.

"God give me strength," Aurelia sighed, shoulders slumped in resignation. If she didn't go indoors now, her mother would come out to fetch her.

"It's not going to be _that_ bad," laughed Furia. "And I promise, I'll be right there next to you."

Aurelia smiled wistfully.

"What am I going to do without you, Furia?"

The Briton turned to her friend, searching her eyes. Furia felt her heart hitch at what she found there. Behind the stubborn determination was a very real fear and she was reminded then of just how young Aurelia was. And maybe it was their youth that gave them the strength to be that brave in the face of impossible odds. That brave or that stupid; Furia still hadn't quite decided which. She returned a smile that matched Aurelia's and pulled her friend into a tight hug. It took a while before Furia trusted herself to speak.

"You run along now,' she said, releasing Aurelia. She reached up to tuck a stray lock of dark hair behind the girl's ear. "Your mother's waiting. And don't you worry…" She smiled again. "…I'll be right there with you."

And Furia was true to her word. She spent the rest of the day close to Aurelia's side, even chasing away the seamstresses after the final fitting of the bridal gown before they could suggest adding yet another item of clothing to the bridal wardrobe. There were only two instances that night when she left the young Roman alone; when Aurelia said her farewells to her family, and when she left for the stables. The girl snuck back to her room before dawn.

Morning came too soon for both girls. Aurelia took as much time as she could with her last minute preparations, putting off getting dressed until the latest possible moment. And so she did not notice that she was not the only one donning a sturdy travelling habit until she was throwing on her cloak.

"Um, Furia?" Aurelia took in her friend's thick dress and heavy cloak. The Briton hand pulled her hair back into a practical braid, ideal for a long journey. It did not take the girl long to put the pieces together. "No," she said firmly. "I absolutely forbid it!"

Furia pulled the drawstrings of a purse, securing it tightly and tucking it away at the bottom of the cloth bag she had slung on her shoulder. She smoothed out a wrinkle in her skirts, straightened, and then turned to Aurelia with a bright smile on her face.

"Are you ready?"

Aurelia scowled.

"You are not coming with me, Furia!"

"Who's going to stop me?" came the defiant challenge as Furia crossed her arms. Aurelia flung her hands in the air agitatedly.

"Oh for - ! You're supposed to be the sensible one." She ran a hand through her hair, taking in the look in Furia's eyes, knowing that once her friend had made up her mind no amount of arguing, crying or begging would make her change her mind. Aurelia exhaled a long, exasperated sigh. "You do know that this is insane, right?"

"No crazier than your plan," retorted Furia. And then with a reassuring smile, "Just think of me as your backup plan."

"Furia…" Aurelia struggled finding the right words for what she wanted to say. "You've been with my family for eighteen years. I know my parents wish to formally announce your freedom in the near future. Lucius supports it as well. With your freedom comes Roman citizenship and then you'll be free to do whatever you want – stay here, leave, marry. But if you come with me…I can't guarantee you'll ever get your freedom."

"I know that," said Furia simply.

Aurelia nodded dejectedly.

"Of course you do." The young Roman girl smiled self-deprecatingly. "I really don't deserve you."

"Oh now you're just being ridiculous," laughed Furia. She approached her friend, flicking specks of invisible dust off her shoulders. "When you walk out that door you will hold your head up high. Show that Senator that you'll not be intimidated."

Aurelia's smile widen to one of genuine contentment. She fingered the smooth ribbon she had secreted in the folds of one of her sleeves, an idea forming in her mind.

"Furia? Could you do me one last favour?"

---

The scene in Arthur's courtyard was a solemn one. With the exception of Senator Servilius, who was practically beaming with joy when compared to everyone else, and his lady wife hanging docilely on his arm, not a single person in that courtyard wanted to be there.

Tristan had found a spot well away from the proceedings yet near enough to catch one last look at her when she did leave. He wasn't surprised to see that Arthur was the only person there not related to Aurelia's family in some way. He had known the others would have bid Aurelia farewell in their own way days before to avoid actually sending her off. None of them were really very good when it came to goodbyes. Though he had expected Furia to be present and briefly wondered where the Briton could have been.

He soon got his answer as Aurelia walked out of the domus, followed closely by her handmaid. Tristan felt a smile pulling at his lips; the way she was carrying herself, the defiant gleam in her eye; Aurelia looked positively regal. They hadn't said goodbye last night in the stables. As they sat just holding each other, they had known how fallible their plan was. There were so many things that could go wrong. Yet neither of them spoke of the possibility of failure.

As he watched her hug her family one last time, he felt a sharp pull at his heart. She must have felt eyes on her for she suddenly turned towards him. A gentle smile spread across her face. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Time seemed to have stopped as they watched each other, as if the Fates themselves were giving one last gift to the lovers. And as she finally turned to climb into the carriage that would take her away, a flash of red caught his eye, a sight that made him want to laugh out loud, to scream, anything to match the roar in his ears, the soar of his heart.

She had whispered three simple words into his ear last night. And everything he had felt at hearing them came rushing back to him now. It took all his self-control not to storm into that courtyard and gut that Senator where he stood, Rome be damned. She was wearing his gift – a mutinous declaration. She paused, one foot in the carriage, and turned back towards him one last time. She lifted her hand, placing it lightly on her lips, smiling a secretive little smile. He responded with one of his own.

And then she disappeared into the carriage.

But it as all right for he had seen it – her promise to wait for him. And he knew that no matter what happened, he would find her again. For there, plainly visible even in the bare morning light, was a dark red love-knot, woven through her long dark hair.

---

**A/N:**** So we're finally nearing the end. Just the epilogue to go and it's over. I'm going to miss Aurelia.**

**I had originally planned another chapter but as I started writing this one I realised that it really wasn't needed. I was just delaying the inevitable and another chapter wouldn't really help the plot.**

**I just want to thank everyone again. Old readers, new readers, everyone who ever put this story on their favourites or alerts list. I really appreciate it. You guys are the ones who keep me writing.**

**I really enjoyed this chapter though the end took me ridiculously long to write. I suppose I just wanted to get it right and after several rewrites I do think it's where it should be. There may also be several modernisms that slipped through the cracks that I apologise for. It has been a while since I've immersed myself in 450 AD Britain.**

**There are several nods to Laurie King and her Mary Russell series (and one to Alfred Noyes) in this chapter, a series I recently rediscovered and fell in love with all over again. Her portrayal of Sherlock Holmes reminded me quite a bit of Tristan. Who knew old guys could be so attractive? Haha! I highly recommend the books to anyone and everyone.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

**- Scribbles**

---

**Definitions:**

**Palla: a mantle**

**The strategy game referred to in this chapter is similar to chess though something that Lucius made up all on his own from watching their father. Chess actually originated in India, though the current form that we all now know emerged in Southern Europe during the latter half of the 15****th**** century.**

**Love-knots seem to be either of Arabic or Celtic origin. (http:// www . indobase . com / holidays / valentines-day / valentine-day-symbols / valentine-love-knots . html) has some lovely information on the meaning behind this 'classic symbol of never ending true love'.**


	15. Epilogue

**A/N:**** Just a reminder that this last chapter is in first person point of view.**

**Dedicated to all my faithful readers who've followed this story since the very beginning to the very end. Thank you.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I own nothing recognised as being from the movie. Everything else is mine! Please don't steal. I'm sure you can do better anyway.**

**Across The Mountains**

**Epilogue**

The news reached us three days into our journey. Saxons. Invading from the north. It took another two days before we heard about the suicide mission. The Sarmatian Knights had been sent beyond the Wall to rescue a Roman family.

I don't remember much after that. Furia told me later that I had simply drifted away. She fed me. She dressed me. She made sure I kept one foot in front of the other. She waited on the Senator and his wife as well. As if her efforts could make up for my lack of…everything. It wasn't until we reached the coast that I came back to myself. To see the sea stretch out before me with the vague hint of land on the horizon – it was beautiful. I had never seen the sea before. Yet what I felt was a stark contrast to the rare, clear sunny day.

_Tristan…_

I knew he wasn't going to catch up with us. I hoped he would but I couldn't deny the heavy feeling in pit of my stomach. That raw, animalistic gut instinct that told me something had been set into motion. Something I couldn't control.

_You will love him, and he you, but it will cause you both great pain for neither of you are meant to be together. At least…not in this lifetime._

Old Mother's words rang loud and clear in my head. She had warned us. Somehow, she had known. Yet neither of us had listened. I don't think she really expected us to.

_Your fate and his are so intertwined that I suppose any warnings would be of no use either._

I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, a slight pressure turning me around. The look on Furia's face told me that she had probably been trying to get my attention for some time now. The alarm in her eyes brought my attention back to my surroundings. I had wandered halfway into the water. The Senator and his wife stood up on the shore. He was scowling. She looked worried.

"Aurelia?"

I wanted to laugh. The question in her voice, the lightness in her touch; she was treating me like a fragile doll, afraid that I would break at any moment. Maybe I was.

"It's time to board the ship."

Something did break then. I looked back up to the shore. Senator Servilius had already turned around, one arm draped across the shoulders of his tiny wife, leading her away. And then they paused, as Lady Flavia looked back to see if I was following.

"Aurelia?"

Furia's grip on my shoulder tightened. I turned back to the vast expanse of water. It made me realise…the world was a lot bigger than I could ever have imagined. And I was nothing more than a silly little girl. A scared, silly little girl. But a girl who knew that she was not boarding that ship. Not without a fight.

_Run…run…RUN!_

My legs were already moving long before the thought had fully developed in my mind. A part of me registered the fact that Furia had let me go. She wasn't chasing me. I think she had known what I was about to do before I did.

I could hear voices behind me. Men shouting. Orders were being issued.

_Run faster!_

"Lady Aurelia!"

"After her! Don't let her get away!"

"Grab the Briton!"

"Run Aurelia!"

It was Furia's scream that made me pause. That was my mistake. I felt a heavy force crash into my back, knocking me off my feet and slamming my head into the ground.

"Get up, girl," growled a voice in my ear.

"I would if you got off me!"

A cruel hand grabbed at my hair, hauling me upright.

"Don't try to be smart, girlie."

The legionnaire did not look particularly pleased at having had to run after me. Though he did seem to enjoy the pain he caused me as he led me back to the others with his hand still firmly gripping my hair. Two of his comrades had Furia by her arms, one of them holding a sword to her throat. The Senator was not happy.

"It would be wise if you never try that again," he ground out through clenched teeth.

Lady Furia reached out to place a calming hand on his forearm.

"Dear…"

But her husband cut her off.

"No! I will not let this little whore ruin everything!" He turned back to me, eyes narrowing dangerously. A hand reached up to snatch Tristan's love-knot out of my hair, pulling out several strands by the root in the process. "I've come this far and I'm not letting one stupid little slut spoil it all." His face was so close to mine I could smell his breakfast on his breath. It was quite revolting.

"Gaius? Love…" Lady Flavia's voice was quiet and cautious. "What are you talking about?"

It was unnerving watching the change in the man before me. The way he handled his wife; the love in his voice, the care in his touch as he ran a hand down her cheek and tried to convince her that he had everything under control. That he had a plan and she would never have to leave him. It would have been romantic if it weren't so…creepy. Apparently Lady Flavia thought so too. The look on her face could only have been described as horrified.

"Gaius…What have you done?"

The Senator pulled his petite wife into his arms, resting his chin on her head and rubbing her back soothingly.

"Don't worry, my love. I have everything under control."

Furia shot me an alarmed look. She didn't like the sound of where the Senator's plan was going anymore than I did. And the both of us, being of like minds, decided we definitely did not want to be around when his plan came to fruition. I jerked my head back around the same time Furia relaxed in her captors' grip and then brought her knee up as they tried to readjust their hold on her. I heard a sickening crunch as the back of my skull collide with the legionnaire's face and Furia's hit must have struck a sensitive body part as one of the men holding her had doubled over in pain. The other legionnaire, however, still had a firm hold on her other arm and was not impressed with our antics.

"GO!" Furia ordered as she saw me hesitate. I had only taken a few halting steps backwards when I saw the Senator move out of the corner of my eye. The sound of his fist hitting the side of Furia's head seemed louder than it should have been. I saw her stagger and her eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment.

"Gaius!" came the Lady Furia's outraged cry.

"Get up!" shouted the legionnaire still holding Furia.

"Furia?" My voice sounded scared even to my ears.

"Get them on board the ship," ordered the Senator coldly.

I made to move forward to help Furia who didn't look like she could quite stand on her own feet when I was restrained once more. The legionnaire whose nose I had broken looked close to running me through with his sword. Blood ran freely down his face and his snarl was murderous. Between him and the other legionnaires, they dragged and shoved us towards the ship that would carry us across the sea and down the coast towards the heart of the Roman Empire. Furia stumbled more than once and as we neared the gangplank, she fell forward onto her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach across the feet of her captor, who swore colourfully before throwing a kick into her side.

"No!" I screamed as Furia crumpled into a senseless heap.

I had heard of cases like this before; where a person receiving a hard blow to the head becomes sick and loses the ability to be coherent. Usually the person would lose consciousness. Sometimes, they never woke up.

"Let me go!" But my pleas fell on deaf ears and my struggles easily subdued. We were heaved onboard and thrown onto the deck. A few sailors eyed us curiously, but they must have been paid well enough not to ask any questions for no one came forward to offer help. I scrambled on my knees to where Furia had fallen.

"Furia?"

She had completely lost her senses.

"Everything ok – wine – Senator – wife – flower – "

I knew better than to try to quieten her. If she kept talking there would be less of a chance of her falling unconscious. Even if all she could say was utter gibberish. I could see the Senator leading his wife below deck, animatedly explaining something to her. There was a gleam in his eye, a gleam that gave me the worst feeling of foreboding. The Senator was clearly quite mad. And that could not bode well for Furia and I.

---

I did not get to watch as we left the port. I did not see the only home I've known for the last eighteen years disappear over the horizon. We were thrown into a dank cell before we set sail. What I saw was my closest friend slip away from me.

I could not stop Furia from falling into unconsciousness. Her breathing was even, her countenance so peaceful; if I hadn't known any better, I would have thought she was asleep. I sat next to her on the wet wooden floor, cradling her head in my lap. I'm not sure what I thought I could accomplish by trying to make her as comfortable as possible, but it gave me something to do. And I suppose prevented me from feeling so completely useless.

I thought of my family, wondered what Lucius was doing at that very moment, wondered if he was still trying to emulate Lancelot. I tried to imagine what my parents must be going through now, realising that a Saxon invasion was imminent. Were they relieved that I was no longer there? Did they believe they had gotten me out of the way of danger? I knew that my father and Lucius would do everything in their power to keep my mother safe. For some reason, I wasn't too worried about them.

I thought of the Sarmatians and the Woads. Would they band together now in the face of a common foe?

And I thought of Tristan; wished him there with me in that cell, imagined him coming to our rescue. I wondered where he was right then, whether he was safe or fighting for his life. I dreamed of the nights we had in Arthur's stables and of growing old together on the green plains of Sarmatia.

I did not know how long we had been at sea. We were never brought above deck. We had no visitors except for the ship's boy who brought us our meals. We had cold meat and some sort of strong drink to begin with. But the longer we were at sea, the less we were given until our rations consisted of old bread and water.

Everyday Furia got weaker and weaker. It was on the boy's twelfth visit that she stopped eating and drinking all together. I had been soaking pieces of bread in the water to make it easier for her. But that day – or was it night? – Furia simply seemed to retreat into herself. She gave up.

That was the day Senator Gaius came for me.

It was not too long after the boy had left. I was watching Furia's chest steadily rise and fall, reminding myself that it was a sign that she was still alive. I heard the sound of heavy footsteps stomping towards our cell before the door flew back on its hinges, hitting the wall behind it with a loud crash. The Senator seemed to fill the entire doorway. His eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. And he was very, very angry. He threw something at me, something soft and light. My hand reached out for it, closing around the familiar material.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?"

His voice seemed louder than it should have been in that tiny space. I looked down at what I held in my hand. It was a small drawstring bag. My drawstring bag. The one I had filled with foxglove, belladonna and honey –

"Flower…"

That's what Furia had meant. All those days she served the Senator and his wife during our journey south to the coast; she had been slowly poisoning them.

Senator Gaius was not pleased with my silence. I suppose some part of me must have registered him lunging at me but I was not really aware of what had happened until I felt his hands around my throat, slowly attempting to squeeze an answer out of me.

"What did you do to her?" he repeated.

I don't know what made me say it, but the words had slipped past my lips before I could stop them. I was curious.

"Are you feeling all right?" I managed to choke out.

The Senator's eyes bugged out even further, if that were physically possible. The growl he uttered was entirely animalistic. He muttered something under his breath that I did not manage to catch despite our close proximity. And then his hand wound its way into my hair and he was pulling me out of my cell. Kicking legs, flailing arms, biting teeth; nothing seemed to have any affect whatsoever on him. He dragged me up a ladder; I felt the rungs hitting my back as I struggled to find some sort of firm footing. And then we were in another dark room. Except this one was bigger and didn't smell damp. Senator Gaius dropped me rather unceremoniously in the middle of the room, his eyes fixed on the bed in the corner.

"It's time, my love."

Keeping my eyes on the Senator and the figure in the bed that could only have been the Lady Flavia, I crept backwards towards the door we had just come through. By my not so subtle attempt at escape was thwarted by the legionnaire who stood guard there. It was the same one whose nose I had broken.

"You're not going anywhere, my pretty," he leered down at me.

"Don't call me that," I snarled.

The Senator was helping his wife sit up in bed. The poison laced wine that Furia had been feeding them had really taken its toll on Lady Flavia. Where she had been tiny and fragile before; now she seemed to be only skin and bones. Honey flower roots made its victim emetic. It appeared that even trying to move hurt her immensely. Yet the Senator did not show any signs of having been affected by the poison. How was that possible?

"Where are you going, my dear?" asked the Senator. Except the last two words came out more like a curse than an endearment. "You're the guest of honour."

I looked past him to the Lady Flavia. And had to suppress a scream. Her eyes – she was looking at me with eyes that weren't quite alive. I knew this wasn't just the poison. But she was smiling, a hand reached out towards me, beckoning me closer. I shook my head stupidly and felt myself reach instinctively for the prayer beads around my wrist. How ironic; they had been a gift from the lady.

Part of me wanted to laugh hysterically. Part of me wanted to cry. It was almost like that time back in the Northern Forests of Britain, after that Woad attack. My emotions needed an outlet and it was either going to be in laughter or tears.

For being the 'guest of honour', the Senator was mostly ignoring me. He walked towards a table that took up most of one wall of the room. It was hard to make out exactly what it was on that table that held his attention. It was draped with a dark cloth and had two large candles on each end, which were difficult to discern at first until I realised that they too were as dark as the tablecloth. A taller, thinner candle of a deep red stood in the middle of the table. The Senator retrieved something from it and came back towards me. I prayed a Pater noster.

"Hold your arm out, girl," he demanded. I did not move. Growling angrily, he barked out an order to the legionnaire and I felt a firm grip on my wrist and my arm being pulled straight out before me. Noticing the prayer beads hanging off my wrist, the Senator sneered. "God can't help you now."

He had a vicious looking knife in one hand and a wooden bowl in the other. Despite the dim light provided by the candles, I was able to make out its contents. The bowl contained the entrails of a small animal; and resting on the very top – a tiny, still beating heart. My eyes widened in disbelief.

I did not feel the knife as Senator Gaius made his incision, a long cut down my arm from elbow to wrist. I had heard my father's men speak of such wounds before; how it was so deep that the body refused to acknowledge it, the brain blocking out any pain in a futile attempt to spare the body any further violation. I watched dumbly as my blood dripped off my arm and into the wooden bowl. The heart seemed to beat even wilder with each drop of blood that splashed onto it.

And then the Senator went to his wife. She held her arm out without being told to. He seemed to hesitate before cutting up her arm, but with a look of grim determination on his face, he set the knife to the inside of her elbow and dragged it to her wrist. He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"Soon, my love," he said. "It's almost done."

Back at the table the candles seemed to burn brighter. In fact, they had started to do so with the first drop of blood spilt. My blood. I was feeling it now; the toll of blood lost on my body. My head felt light. My limbs felt impossibly heavy. I was so, so sleepy. And the more tired I felt, the stronger the Lady Flavia appeared to become.

The Senator was holding something else in his hands. Parchment. Yet not quite that. I had never seen parchment that black before. And he was reading from it. Reading in a language I didn't understand. The words seemed to swim together until they were just a cacophony of ominous sounds. The room was spinning. The candles flared up like pillars of fire. And my muddled brain pieced the pieces together. Magic. Black magic.

It explained the state Lady Flavia was in. It wasn't just the poison Furia had been feeding them. Senator Gaius was already practicing his dark arts on her. Yet I couldn't understand why. He loved her. In his own twisted way, Senator Gaius loved his wife. It did not make sense.

And the room was shifting too much. I felt myself pitching forward and threw my arms out in front of me to steady myself. I did not expect the sharp prick of pain that shot up my bleeding arm and with it all the defences my body and brain had erected against the cut the Senator had inflicted on me crumbled down. I screamed.

Senator Gaius did not falter in his incantations. But he smiled as I screamed. And I did not stop screaming until my voice was hoarse. Yet even then the room seemed to reverberate with my cries of pain. I wanted to curl into myself and cry. Maybe if I closed my eyes this would all turn out to be just a horrible nightmare. But I wasn't dreaming. The pain told me that.

With the Senator's last words, I felt a cold finger drag itself up my spine. Was this what it felt like, to know that you were about to die? I watched, not really comprehending, as Senator Gaius returned to his wife's side, bearing the same bowl and blade. Did he need more blood? But he was holding the wooden bowl to her lips, tipping it down her throat. And she was drinking it – no, gulping it – down. The Senator held the knife out to her, offering her the hilt. Lady Flavia smiled an empty smile, looking at him with eyes that did not quite comprehend what was happening; yet they were trusting. Her fingers curled around the knife.

All my senses screamed at me to move, to get away, to do _something_, as Lady Flavia got up and came towards me. Despite my sluggishness I knew I had to fight. I had to make some sort of effort because if I didn't Lady Flavia – sweet, gentle Lady Flavia who had always treated me with great kindness despite my suspicions of her – was going to kill me. She was standing in front of me now, raising the knife above her head. I threw myself at her legs, hoping to knock her down. She must have been as weak as I was for she crumbled easily.

"NO!" the Senator screamed in a rage.

But I had already kicked the blade out of reach. The Lady Flavia looked confused. It was almost childlike. We stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move, waiting for something to happen.

"Kill her, Flavia!" screamed Senator Gaius. "You need to kill her!"

Lady Flavia looked around for a weapon to do just as her husband ordered. But her movements were slow. Her body was dying, just like mine was. She seemed to come to the decision that she should try to get back the knife and I knew I couldn't let her. No matter what it took, I could not let her regain possession of the knife.

She crawled towards it, ignoring the fact, or possibly not even aware, that I was still lying on her legs. As her hand reached out for the blade, I reached up to grab the back of her dress, pulling myself up onto her body and weighing her down. Yet she still struggled to reach the knife. I wrapped my fingers around her arm, trying to pull it back. And still she struggled. She was definitely aware of my presence now. With a savage cry no human could possible produce, she bucked and kicked and tried to throw me off her back. I stubbornly held on to her. It was a fight over who could reach the knife first. Neither of us wanted to die.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the Senator coming in aid of his wife. I felt panic rising up in me, constricting my chest, making it hard for me to breath. Yet I continued to fight. Tristan would want me to fight. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, pressing her face down into the floorboards. Almost. My fingers were so close. Lady Flavia seemed to regain enough of her senses to drive her elbow into my side around the same time her husband latched his hands around my neck and dragged me off her.

"Now, Flavia! NOW!"

Confusion overtook the Lady Flavia once more and she hesitated. In desperation, I swung my leg up. Her head snapped back as my toes connected with her chin and I could not stop the cry of pain at feeling something in my foot break. Love for his wife and her wellbeing overtook any thoughts of hurting me as the Senator threw me to the side and crouched down by his lady.

It was hard to move. Every single muscle in my body protested violently. But I could see the blade now, just within reach. All I had to do was stretch out my arm. However, I had forgotten about the legionnaire. I did not know why he had not intervened until then. Maybe he had not known just what his master was planning and had been taken by surprise by the display of black magic. But he sprung into action now. The man came towards me, gladius drawn. I scrambled desperately towards the knife and as the legionnaire grabbed hold of my dress, my fingers curled around the hilt. I twisted in his grip; an effort that cost me more than I had thought it would, and drove the sharpened blade straight through his thigh. As the legionnaire fell to his knees, his short sword slipping from his grip and hitting the floor with a loud clatter, I had enough sense left to draw the knife back out of his leg.

It was silly, I know. But for a brief moment I felt giddy with the knowledge that had Tristan seen what I had done, he would have been proud. Of course, had Tristan been able to see what I was experiencing, the Senator and the legionnaire would already be dead.

The Lady Flavia was not moving. Senator Gaius was shaking her but nothing he did garnered a response from her. I had lost too much blood already, I knew, but if I was to have the slightest chance of survival I needed to get as far away from the deranged man as possible.

I crawled towards the door, now unguarded. I could hear the Senator's cry of outrage and despair and struggled to my feet. Pain shot up my leg each time I put my broken foot to the floor and tears were streaming down my face but I kept hobbling until I reached the door. It was only once I had left the room that I realised why it had moved around so much. It wasn't my blood lost that was making my head swim. We were in the middle of a storm. I could see water pouring down the open hatch just in front of me each time the vessel pitched from side to side.

Then I remembered Furia, locked away somewhere below, and I turned around to go back for her. But the Senator was blocking my way. The look on his face let me know that only one of us was going to come out of this confrontation alive. I tightened my grip on the knife. I was at a vast disadvantage. I was weak and even if I hadn't lost the amount of blood I had, the Senator still outweighed me and was definitely stronger. The only advantage I had was my determination to live. That would have to be enough.

Fortunately for me, crazy people were prone to do unexpected things, like not defend themselves when blinded by rage. So as he lunged for my throat once again, I brought the blade up to stab his left eye. It gave way surprisingly easily. I pushed the knife into his head until only the hilt stuck out. He screamed but it did not appear to be a cry of pain but one of anger. He continued to apply pressure on my throat. I twisted the knife in his eye. That seemed to get his attention for he immediately let me go.

I don't know what made me do it. I could have simply ran then. But of course the Senator would have chased me down until he was sure I was dead.

I didn't run. Instead, as Senator Gaius clawed at his eye, I launched myself onto his back. He roared in anger and tried to dislodge me. I bit my lip and tasted blood when he slammed himself into the walls of the corridor, pinning me between himself and the wall. I would never know what possessed me to do it; maybe it was my innate will to survive. But I felt the long string of prayer beads still hanging from my wrist and, without thinking, wound it around the Senator's neck. And then I pulled, backwards and upwards.

I held on as Senator Gaius thrashed and scratched at my hands. It's a strange feeling, to feel a man's life slipping away from him, knowing that you had caused it. I wondered if Tristan felt the same with each kill he made. I continued pulling at the prayer beads long after the Senator had collapsed and stilled below me. I did not let go until my muscles lost the strength to continue pulling at them. I did not look at the Senator. I crawled off him and up the ladder through the open hatchway, trying to ignore the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me, and the pain I felt each time I set my foot on a rung. I slipped off twice but managed to gain the deck eventually.

I was almost thrown overboard when a wave came crashing down onto the deck of the ship. Men were shouting orders and scrambling to tie things down. The sails had been rolled up and there was no one at the wheel. As another wave threatened the ship, I stumbled sideways towards the railing, unable to control my movements. My feet gave way beneath me and I slid across the wet deck. Just as I accepted that the sea was about to claim me, an arm wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me back to safety. It was a sailor; his other arm clutching at the length of rope that prevented him from being pitched overboard himself.

"You shouldn't be up here," he shouted over the roar of the storm. And then he noticed the condition I was in. I suppose I was quite a sight, a girl covered in blood and still bleeding profusely, her dress torn and her face looking like she had just lost a fight with a cat. "What – "

But he never got to complete his question. We heard a loud crack and the look of horror on the sailor's face was enough to tell me that whatever had broken meant trouble for us. Men were screaming and then I heard a cry of terror from somewhere above us. I looked up to see another sailor falling off the netting that ran from the deck to the masts. I did not realise I was crying or that I had screamed as well until the sailor that had a hold of me shielded my eyes from the sight of the man hitting the deck. I shivered in his arms, and it was not just from the cold.

And then I heard him swear and he was looking up at where the other sailor had fallen. Except the netting was closer than it should have been. And he was pushing me away from him. And I realised that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. The main mast was falling onto us.

---

I do not know how long I clung to that water cask. In fact, I do not remember much of what happened after the main mast fell. I had woken up long after the storm had abated, tied to the cask, floating in the middle of the sea. I could not feel my arms or my legs and what I can see of my limbs scares me. They were pale. Deathly pale. I can see the blue of my veins beneath my skin. It's hard to believe that I still have enough blood running in them to keep me alive.

I wonder if Furia is still onboard the ship. Is there still a ship? I can only imagine what will happen when the Senator's body is discovered. Will they turn around and return to Britain? Or will they continue on to Rome?

A shrill cry sounds overhead. I twist my head until I can see the sky above me. A familiar sight greets me. A sight that makes me smile and warms my heart. There is a hawk circling over me. I know it's impossible but I wonder if it's Tristan's hawk. Was he watching her circling over him too?

I wish I were with him now. I want him to hold me and make the cold go away and kiss me and tell me that everything's going to be all right.

I'm tired. And so very sleepy.

But I watch the hawk and let my mind wander off to rolling hills of green. To horses galloping across grassy plains. To shelters made of hide stretched over wooden frames. To families gathered around the evening fire.

And to Tristan, who smiles like he did when I told him I love him. Who traces gentle kisses across my collarbone and cups my cheeks in his calloused hands. Who tucks my hair behind my ear and presses his lips to mine. Who holds out his hand towards me just like he did in that alley so many nights ago. I smile. His hand, held outstretched and steady, was a promise that made my heart sing. This time there was no need to make a decision. I already knew what I was going to do.

I take a deep breath.

And place my hand in his.

---

**A/N:**** Please don't forget to vote for the story you would like to see me write next. The poll is up on my profile page.**

**I hope the epilogue did not disappoint. If you feel I've not answered all the questions raised by the plot of the story, please do not hesitate to point out what it is specifically so that I may try to clear it up for you.**

**I want to once again thank everyone who stuck with Aurelia and I until the very end. Thank you.**

**With love, **

**Scribbles**


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